Part of Your World
by illyriazshell
Summary: Kurt, miserable at McKinley, makes a deal with Sue to transfer to Dalton. The absurd condition; he gives up his voice until he receives a kiss of "true love"  from Blaine, obviously. Runs in parallel with Season 2, slight AU.
1. His Voice Is Like A Bell

**Author's Note:** I've had it requested of me that I upload this fic here so it's easier to keep track of updates. Since I've posted up to chapter 8, I'll be posting a new chapter on this site fairly frequently for the next little while, but if you want to catch up with this story quicker, you can go to illyriaz-fic dot livejournal dot com (link at my profile). As new chapters come out, I'll be posting there first. If you do go there to catch up and you have a livejournal account, please know that **comments are REALLY appreciated.** They're also appreciated if you want to read this here, too. 3

**Warning/Heads Up:** This story is a _very slight_AU; it follows Season 2 pretty closely in most aspects other than Kurt/Blaine meeting. THERE ARE NO MERMAIDS. However, the plot is heavily inspired by The Little Mermaid, which was almost too easy to incorporate into the Glee Universe. Also, this is NOT a songfic (I really don't like songfics), but incorporating lyrics in some parts was necessary.

This story is supposed to be fun overall, but has dark and angsty parts, as well as sexy times (I'm not following TLM plot completely faithfully; rather using it more as a guideline).

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1 – His Voice Is Like A Bell<strong>

"…and even though there's no shame in feeling like you can't keep up with me vocally, just remember that your parents are out there, and if they're anything like mine, they'll never ever let you live down a bad performance. So everyone just try their best! Good pep talk? Okay. Let's go!" Rachel beamed, but her smile dropped as she began looking desperately around the choir room. The glee club collectively shuffled out the door towards the backstage of the auditorium. "Where's Kurt?"

"I don't know, he was with us a minute ago," Mercedes huffed out.

Finn started jogging backwards, "He ran to the guy's washroom during your lectu-'pep talk' to adjust his eye junk."

Quinn added over her shoulder, smirking, "He said your nagging was 'boring him to tears' and his mascara was starting to run."

"What?" Rachel squawked. "He's the opening act! This is my one chance to show Mr. Schuester I can run Glee club better than he can! The first of many glittering nights where both my raw talent and directing brilliance will dazzle a crowd of this magnitude! Or larger! Where the hell are his priorities?"

"Calm your jaw, princess!" Kurt's head popped out of the men's washroom as they passed by, eyes heavy with black eyeliner, "I'm thirty seconds behind you. Just gotta add the finishing touches. Go, get everything started." And Kurt's head was gone.

"You better be, Mister!" Rachel hollered back. She then whispered loudly, "Honestly! I understand now why Mr. Schue under-performs as choir director when he's working with such _amateurs_."

As they entered backstage of the auditorium, Rachel took in a deep breath, letting the nerves subside and her need to perform shine through.

"Right. Places people! Mike and Brittany, you're up first. Girls, come with me to the other side of the stage." Rachel peered through the curtain, looked out into the audience full of people, waved to her dads. This was her moment; the first time she was really in charge of glee club. Not that she wasn't normally unofficially the leader, but now she'd gained full creative control. Granted, she'd gained it from an exasperated Mr. Schuester, tired of her complaining and daring her to see if she could walk the talk. But she was so full of joy, pride and conviction, she forgot herself for a minute and jumped as a hand tapped her on the shoulder.

"It looks like everyone's taken their seats. Sure you can handle this, Rachel?" Mr. Schuester asked.

"Everything's under control, Mr. Schue. I've got this." _You'll see_.

"Great, can't wait to see what you've prepared," he said, giving the thumbs up to Principal Figgins, who smiled and shuffled over to the microphone, tapping it twice.

"Testing. Testing. Hello parents, friends, and local small business owners considering purchasing advertising space in this year's Thunderclap. Before I welcome you to the McKinley High Glee Club Fall Invitational, I would like to first apologize for the contents of the complimentary brownies served outside…"

Both Rachel and Mr. Schuester shot a look back at Puck. "Wha?" he mumbled through chewing, "You said wanted them to enjoy the show, right?" When their gazes didn't waver, he spit out the contents of his mouth and chucked his treat in the garbage can. "Fine, whatever. Lame!"

"…we are not legally responsible for any side effects you may experience. Now, without any further ado, performing select numbers from the Oscar winning film 'Chicago,' the McKinley High New Directions!"

Applause followed. _Broadway show first! _Rachel thought, but there wasn't time. She signalled Brittany and Mike, decked out in the 20's style clothing the glee club had borrowed from the theatre department, and they made their way on stage, passing Principal Figgins. Rachel breathed out a nervous sigh as the "Overture" started up and Brittany and Mike cut loose.

_This was definitely the right way to open_, she thought, _the audience is eating it up! Wait_ _until they hear me solo "Roxie_._" Mr. Schue will see that showtunes can be just as effective as classic rock at impressing a crowd tragically uneducated in musical theatre. _

The jazz was building. The enjoyment of the attendees was palpable. The audience roared about a minute into the routine as Brittany managed to pull off a rather difficult flip off Mike's back. The music continued as their dancing began to slow and the upbeat sound transitioned to the steady opening notes of "All That Jazz." The curtain was rising, with Mike and Brittany standing near the front of the stage, panting, facing forwards and their hands pointing back towards…

…where Kurt was supposed to be standing. Where Kurt wasn't standing. Where the spotlight was shining on an empty stool amidst the jazz band. Rachel's stomach lurched. The beats unaccompanied by vocals were pulsing in her ears. She looked out into the audience, watching as joy quickly descended into quiet confusion. This was a disaster. This was going to be her undoing. She'd never get a chance to direct another glee performance, she wouldn't get a scholarship to a prestigious school with a reputable musical theatre department and her career was over before it began. And it was all _Kurt Stupid Hummel's _fault.

"Next number, next number!" Rachel whispered harshly, signalling to the conductor.

As the music switched rather sloppily, the girl's eyes darted quickly amongst each other before they collected themselves and slinked frantically onto stage. Tina nearly tripped, but Quinn caught her. Mercedes was slow to get into position. Rachel bit her lip, cleared her throat loudly, and at once they snapped into formation and began to sing in unison.

"_He had it coming, He had it coming,  
>He only had himself to blame,<br>If you'da been there, If you'da seen it  
>I betcha you would have done the same"<em>

As they finished the first chorus, Rachel, standing near the far right of the stage, could hear Mr. Schuester backstage asking where Kurt was. Finn told him he was probably still in the bathroom. Schuester sprinted off, looking concerned. Rachel was furious; she was going to eviscerate Kurt for embarrassing her like this. She tried to shove it to the back of her mind as her and the rest of the girls moved backwards, tapping and snapping.

Santana stepped forwards, taking the microphone.

"_You know how people have these little habits that get you down?"_

* * *

><p>5 minutes earlier<p>

* * *

><p>"The fuck you doing, Hummel? Girls' bathroom's down the hall if you're gonna be touching up your makeup."<p>

Stomach pressed against the sink to angle his face closer to the mirror, mascara wand in hand, Kurt refused to even dignify Karofsky's presence in the bathroom entrance-way by turning his head. Instead, he kept his eyes focused on the task at hand. He didn't have time or patience for this right now. He didn't ever, really, but he had a show to open and he'd _just_ told Rachel he'd be right there. He was not in the mood to be chewed out right before his debut solo performance.

"For your information, Karofsky, _both_ men and women are usually required to wear makeup on stage," Kurt responded lazily, dipping the wand back into the container, and bringing it back up to his left eye.

"Yeah, well theaters' full of a bunch of queers; I wouldn't really call them 'men.'" Karofsky chuckled, clearly trying to rile him up.

Kurt quirked an eyebrow and opened his mouth to retort, but he bit his lip and chose to ignore him. He was _really _getting sick of this; the shoving, the constant name calling. A week ago, Karofsky had pushed him into a water fountain, pressing him into the button and making him stand in front of the water stream as the front of his favourite red Channel blouse was drenched. He'd cried that day. But he stood by what he'd said to Mr. Schuester a few weeks ago; this was his hill to climb alone. He wasn't going to get anywhere by actively engaging Karofsky.

He applied the last stroke of mascara and rotated his head slightly to see that he'd applied it evenly. Satisfied, he shoved the mascara wand in its container and pressed off the sink, moving towards the exit. However, his exit was blocked by the large, sweaty boy wearing McKinley High gym clothes. Karofsky looked Kurt over, disgust evident on his face as he took in Kurt's makeup and the sequined vest he'd switched into at the last minute. He'd wanted to spice up the white-shirt and suspenders from the theatre department, even if Rachel had insisted that it wasn't era-appropriate.

"Please move," Kurt asked sternly, crossing his arms but not looking him in the eye. "I have to be on stage in a few minutes."

"Yeah, well, what if I don't wanna?" Karofsky shot back.

Kurt balked. "Seriously? Please just move!"

"Whatchu gonna do if I don't? Cry? Oh no! Your makeup will run and you'll have to do it all over again."

A beat, then Kurt spat, "What the hell are you trying to accomplish here? Don't you have some dumbbells to lift or sprints to run?"

Karofsky merely shrugged, clearly amused with his frustration.

Kurt huffed, "God! What is your problem?"

"You're my problem, twinkle toes."

"Yeah, well you're my problem too, and I look forward to ten years from now when my biggest problem is reminding you to keep the meat separated from everything else while you're bagging my fucking groceries!" Kurt screamed. He usually wasn't this quick to anger, but time was of the essence here. "But I don't have time for this now, so I'll ask you again. Please. Move."

Karofsky was obviously annoyed with his comment, barking with less amusement than before. "And I'll ask you again; whatchu gonna do if I don't?"

Kurt was pissed. For a moment, they just stood there, glaring at each other. Kurt glanced back towards the tiny window near the roof on the opposite side of the bathroom. Even if he could reach it, skinny as he was he might not fit through. And even if he did, he'd have to run around the length of the school. He wasn't going to get to the auditorium on time. Maybe if he squeezed passed Karofsky he could reach the doorway.

Karofsky must have seen Kurt's eyes move towards the empty space between his body and the wall, and he jutted out his large, muscular arm, effectively blocking the smaller boy's escape.

At that moment, the sound of jazz music echoed faintly through the halls, and Kurt panicked.

"Shit! Please just move. You can beat the crap out of me tomorrow, I don't care. But I have to be on stage, like, 3 minutes ago."

"And, what, let you ruin our football team's winning streak by embarrassing our school as you prance around on stage like a glittering little fairy? Not happening."

Kurt could feel rage mixing in with his panic; intellectually he was trying to calm himself down, because he could hear the jazz music starting to swell. But his mouth and body weren't listening. "You know what's embarrassing for this school? Ten year seniors who are flunking remedial math. I mean your chubby ass looks like it's about 30, and…"

"What did you say about my ass, homo?" Karofsky leaned forward aggressively, hand pounding the wall. Kurt winced, but didn't back down.

"Oh please! You are so not my type. So if that's what you're scared of and why you won't leave me alone, then rest assured that the only dirty thoughts I have of you involve drop-kicking you into a pile of manure!"

Karofsky's fist clenched and he huffed, and Kurt darted forward, attempting to push past him. Karofsky was quick and shoved him back. "Come on!" Kurt shouted as he tried again, and was defeated, again, "This is pointless! Let." Pushed back. "Me." Pushed back again. "Go!" And he finally surged forward, directly _at_ Karofsky this time, shoving him as hard as he could.

It was ineffective.

Karofsky grabbed his shoulders and shoved him hard against the wall of the nearest stall. The metal reverberated and his head made a dull thump as it connected with the stall. Kurt's whole body slumped, but his blood was only pumping adrenaline, so as Karofsky moved towards him, he swung his fist furiously.

…_and I fired two warning shots…_

Karofsky easily dodged the first swing, laughing, but was caught off guard when the other fist nearly connected with his face. Frowning, he grabbed Kurt's shoulders, and slammed him roughly against the stall again, and again, knocking the wind out of him. With their relative sizes, Kurt might as well have been a ragdoll.

When Kurt regained his breath, he groaned. Rage coursed through him, and he shot another fist forward, this time, connecting with Karofsky's jaw.

…_he had it coming, he had it coming,  
>he only had himself to blame…<em>

His momentary triumph evaporated as Karofsky's head slowly turned back to face him, glaring amusedly as he felt the grip on his shoulders tighten.

"That all you got, Hummel? You hit like a girl." Karofsky smirked. He was breathing heavily.

…_if you'da been there, if you'da heard it  
>I betcha you would have done the same…<em>

Kurt had had enough. He tried to shake off his attacker, but he was rewarded with another hard shove against the stall. Kurt squealed, "Get off me, you son of a…"

…_and then I found out…_

Kurt's protest was cut off by Karofsky's mouth on his. He was forced to swallow his words as his body stiffened.

He could feel Karosky's chapped lips roughly rubbing against his, Karofsky's wet tongue probing his mouth. When he regained some semblance of awareness, realization of what was happening dawned on him, and he tried to keep his lips pursed. When he regained motor control, he started to struggle, groaning at the unwanted attention on his mouth.

Karofsky grunted in frustration at Kurt's refusal to accept his kiss, and quickly shoved his body against the hard metal again. This elicited a muffled cry from Kurt, allowing just enough of an opening for Karofsky's tongue. Kurt continued to struggle, pushing back against the larger boy, but it was useless when Karofsky had all of his weight crushing him into the stall.

Kurt tried to bite down on Karofsky's tongue, but Karofsky chose that moment to step back, dragging him around the corner and into the bathroom stall. Kurt resisted, screaming, but it was too late as he was pressed up against the back wall, legs pressed awkwardly against the toilet and escape blocked by Karofsky's hulking form. "What the hell!" was all he managed to sputter before Karofsky's body was pressed on him again. "No, stop!"

…_he was crazy, and he kept on screaming…_

"You think you can walk around these halls, day after day?" Karofsky panted, angrily staring down at the fraught boy beneath him, "Wearing those tight ass pants?" He braced one of his arms against the expanse of Kurt's chest, and used the other hand to grip over Kurt's frantic mouth, drowning out the volume of his cries. "Making me think shit I don't want to think?"

…_he had it coming…_

"You've had this coming for a long time, Hummel." Karofsky whispered. Kurt tried to shake Karofsky's hand off his mouth, but it did no good. Tears were formed at the corner of his eyes. "You practically beg to get that sweet little…every time you strut down the halls…"

…_he had it coming…_

Between the shock, the hand, and Karofsky crushing against his chest, Kurt was having trouble breathing. His body was screaming for oxygen as he was failing to scream at Karofsky to get off of him. As he moved and pushed uselessly, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration and feeling the thick wetness of tears and mascara trail down his cheeks, he could sense a hardness slowly forming against his belly. Once again, Kurt's eyes widened as his body stiffened again with shock.

…_he only had himself to blame…_

The hand not muffling his screams roughly tugged at his sequined vest, but Kurt was too overcome with fear to wince at the sound of the buttons popping off and hitting the edge of the toilet. He was too preoccupied with fighting off the mouth now attacking his neck, as his head had been forced up and sideways, cheek pressing into the wall. He was too engrossed with pulling at Karofsky's arm, the one covering his mouth and pressing him into the wall, but his shaking fingers couldn't grip hard enough and the angle was awkward. He was too busy trying to ignore the hand now groping at his chest, touching him in ways he'd never been touched and certainly didn't want to be touched now. He was too focused on thinking how to escape has he felt that same hand trail lower and lower down his body.

Karofsky angled his pelvis away from Kurt to allow his hand to reach down toward Kurt's belt. With Karofsky's erection removed from his personal space, Kurt regained the wherewithal to seize the moment, and jutted his knee skywards, half-connecting with its intended target. Karofsky yelped, and Kurt took another knee shot to Karofsky's groin, landing it fully the second time. Karofsky screamed, losing his balance as both hands moved to protect his junk, and falling forward onto Kurt.

But Kurt finally had the upper hand, and with his hands and body no longer restrained, he was able to get enough momentum to push off the wall, forcing Karofsky off of him, out of the stall and onto the ground. Karofsky landed with a smack, and curled in on himself, clearly still in pain from Kurt knees. Kurt glared down at his attacker, fists tightening.

…_well, I was in such a state of shock,  
>I completely blacked out,<br>I can't remember a thing…_

Kurt saw red and surged forward. He was kicking wildly at the huddled mass on the ground, acting on blind rage. He said nothing. Only screamed out cries of anger, hurt, and frustration each time his foot connected with flesh. He was frantic, not paying attention to where each blow was landing, or how many times they'd landed. His 'fight or flight' instinct had finally kicked in at full force, and his body had decided squarely on the former, relishing the whimpering and screams tumbling from his tormentor's mouth. The mouth that had been all over him. He could still feel the sticky saliva on his lips, his tongue, his neck. Kurt kicked even harder, landing one final blow to the stomach, letting an ear-piercing scream rip from his throat.

"KURT!"

Kurt whipped his head around to the entranceway. Mr. Schuester was standing with his arms braced against the walls, a look of shock plastered on his face. Kurt immediately froze.

…_he had it coming…_

"KURT, BACK AWAY FROM KAROFSKY!"

…_he had it coming…_

Kurt blinked back at Schuester, not understanding the instruction.

…_he had it coming all along…_

"NOW!"

Kurt jumped and moved backwards, leaning against the stall separator as Mr. Schue ran over, crouching down to Karofsky. "Dave! Dave, answer me. Are you okay? Can you move?"

Karofsky sputtered "He…attacked…me."

…_I didn't do it…_

"What?" Kurt managed to find his voice again. "No, no Mr. Schue! He's the one who, he…attacked me!"

…_but if I'd done it…_

"I don't want to hear it, Kurt! Not right now," Schue said forcefully over his shoulder.

…_how could you tell me that I was wrong?..._

"But!" Kurt couldn't believe he was getting the blame for this. For HIS…assault. "But…"

…_he had it coming…_

Then it hit him. Really sunk in. He hadn't been attacked; he'd almost been _assaulted._ _Sexually. _By Dave Karofsky. Karofsky was…and Karofsky'd tried to…with him.

…_he had it coming…_

Kurt whined, "Mr. Schue, he was the one who started it! He tried to…"

…_he only had himself to blame…_

But he was struggling to even think the words, let alone say them aloud. His hand reached up to cover his mouth, and he could feel the tears streaming down his face. He tried to wipe them away, but if the black marks on his hand were any indication, he was only successful in smudging his makeup even more.

How could this be happening?

…_if you'da been there…_

Mr. Schuester looked up from the large, moaning boy he was tending to, anger and disappointment across his features. "Whatever he started, it looked to me like you were the one who finished it."

…_if you'da seen it…_

"Go stand out in the hallway and wait for me. After I find someone to look after Dave here, we're going to have to head down to Principal Figgins' office." Schuester sighed. "I'd never believe you were capable of something like this. I am _so_ disappointed in you."

…_I betcha you would have done the same…_


	2. Miserable, Lonely & Depressed

**Chapter 2 – Miserable, Lonely and Depressed**

Kurt stared blankly out the window, eyes unfocused. He was slumped, knees propped against the seat in front of him, head pressed lazily against the cushion behind him, bumping along with the motion of the bus. He had his iPhone blasting to drown out the sound of the motor, but his thumb fiddled absently with the screen, only able to play a song for 30 seconds before hitting the 'next' button. He was too preoccupied to be mentally rehearsing back-up dance steps for sectionals, instead reflecting on the crushing defeat that had been his life the past two weeks.

Waiting in Figgin's office, alone, immediately after the 'bathroom incident' had been torture. Face dirty with smeared eyeliner and body drenched in sweat, half from physical exertion and half from fear, he had replayed the sequence of events back over and over, and he'd come to a conclusion.

He couldn't tell anyone what Karofsky had tried to do. Mostly, this had been a gut reaction; the thought of Karofsky's hands on him, his lips, grabbing, pulling, kissing…he felt as though a hand had gripped his stomach tightly and twisted. It was sickening. It was numbing. The word "violated" didn't seem to do it justice; he felt _unclean_. The thought of other people knowing…he couldn't, he just couldn't.

He was still in shock, though. After the tenth mental playback, instinctual revulsion made room for reason, but reason wasn't willing to let him speak the whole truth either. At first, he'd clung to his moral superiority, feeling that outing anyone against their will was wrong. But he'd immediately cast that aside on account of _fuck him_.

However, hindsight also afforded him clarity he had not had in the heat of the moment; mainly, that he was _damn lucky_ to have come out of the exchange with the upper hand. He could have just as easily not had the opening for a groin shot, and he'd understood that without that stroke of luck, he would have been helpless against the much larger, much stronger Karofsky when he'd started to unbuckle Kurt's belt…

It was possible that he was still shaking from more than adrenaline and feeling filthy for reasons apart from hygiene.

The problem, Kurt had concluded, was that Karofsky was unstable. Unstable with regards to his own sexuality, and violently conflicted with his feeling towards Kurt. Kurt was certain if he told anyone what had happened, Karofsky _would_ be outed, and he'd suffer socially, and possibly legally. He'd have nothing to hold him back from seeking revenge on Kurt. Given what had just happened, Kurt shuddered at what that might entail.

So he'd keep his mouth shut about the kissing, the groping. He could relay the story, minus those details, and Karofsky would receive a standard punishment about a standard school fight. Karofsky was getting detention every other week, anyway; there'd be no reason to seek retribution. Hell, Kurt could probably use this info into blackmailing Karofsky into leaving him alone. Into getting Karofsky to make the whole school to just leave him alone.

The delusion had been nice while it had lasted.

After twenty minutes of sitting alone, Kurt had felt like he'd been punched in the stomach when he'd looked up to see his father trailing in behind Figgins and Mr. Schue. His dad looked down at him, clearly heartbroken at his dishevelled attire and tear-stained face. Kurt's heart felt like it actually had dropped out from under him; what had his dad been thinking? Sitting in the audience, staring at an empty stage that he knew (from Kurt's incessant bragging about getting to perform) his son should be occupying. Not only had Kurt missed his first solo, his dad had missed it too.

However, it was clear from the war of words between his dad and Schuester that "All That Jazz" was the last thing on Burt Hummel's mind; his son was a good kid, his son would never start a fight, his son was too small to be picking fights with gorillas on the football team. At this protective behaviour, Kurt felt a slight twinge of happiness. It was short lived, however, when Principal Figgins relayed the story Karofsky gave when the nurse had been inspecting his injuries.

By the way, it was this version of events that the majority of students at McKinley High had later heard, and chosen to believe, seemingly without question.

"So I go to the bathroom to take a leak during practise, right? And that sissy Hummel kid was in there, painting his face. So I'm standing in front of the urinal, and I turn around and the homo's sneaking a peak at my junk! I told him to back off, that I wasn't into that queer shit, but he just stood there, staring at me. It was disgusting! So when I finished taking a piss, yeah, I turned around and I shoved him against the stall. I wasn't about to get violated; I ain't no altar boy. Maybe I should have been nicer about it; you know how they can be all sensitive and shit. But I think the rejection or whatever caused him to snap, because next thing I know, kid's kneeing me in the balls, pushing me to the ground, and stomping on me like it was River Dance. He was fucking insane! I totally would have gotten up and kicked his ass, but Mr. Schue must have heard him crying his lungs out like a 10 year old girl, because he ran in before I could deliver the epic punishment I totally had planned."

Mr. Schuester, thankfully, hadn't swallowed it, and to his credit, Figgins' didn't sound like he'd bought it either. It pained Kurt to no end to watch his dad's face as he sat in silence, eyes narrowed, absorbing the lies. He knew his dad would _never_ believe it, but it still didn't stop Kurt from hating his dad hearing the trash people were talking about his son. That hurt more than the lies themselves. They were still lies though, and Kurt told…most of the truth, which thankfully had appeared to be a much more plausible story.

But the facts still remained that Karofsky's torso had been littered with bruises and, other than the faint marks on his back from being shoved, Kurt barely had a scratch on him. And without the kissing, the groping, the mostly-truth sounded like Kurt "had severely over-reacted to being taunted and pushed around like he was every day."

That there was something severely wrong with the end of that statement was a subject that remained untouched during the heated discussion.

In the end, it had been decided that Kurt and Karofsky had both been in the wrong; Burt objected strongly, but the combined evidence of both Kurt and Karofsky's stories, as well as Mr. Schuester's perspective from the end of the fight, did not argue in favour of Kurt's total innocence. They were both given two days suspension, and two week's worth of after-school detention. Kurt strongly objected, partially out of fear of having to spend the next two weeks trapped in a room with his attacker, complaining that this clashed with Glee club rehearsal and they had sectionals coming up. Schuester had sighed, same look of anger and disappointment on his face as had been in the bathroom, and simply stated that he would have to give the solo he'd promised to Kurt to someone else. Kurt would have to make due with swaying in the background instead. This had been salt in the wound.

During the awkward, tension filled car ride home with his dad, he'd responded to one of the dozen texts left by Mercedes.

_Tomorrow in glee, tell everyone I'm sorry and furious that I missed the Invitational. Karofsky attacked me in the bathroom, I fought back and we were both suspended. _

Mercedes texted back: _Holy crap! We were all so worried about you. Except Rachel, she's P.I.S.S.E.D. but she's nuts. Are you alright?_

Kurt paused a moment before he responded: _I have been better, but I'll live. I'm more concerned about Karofsky's version of what happened; I know I don't have to ask, but if you hear anything about it, please ignore it. And tell the others to do the same. They're filthy lies._

Mercedes replied: _Of course, boo. What's he gonna say, though?_

But before Kurt could debate internally whether or not to go into it, especially via text, his dad grabbed his phone and chucked it in the back seat, telling him that his phone privileges had also been suspended for two days. This was the first time Kurt had been in trouble at school, and it wasn't over a small issue; Burt was clearly conflicted over whether he was supposed to comfort, punish or protect his son.

Tension had been just as thick in the Hummel household the following two days. On the one hand, it gave Kurt more time to plan his dad's and Carole's wedding that weekend. However, that he had received this extra time after being suspended for a fight at school resulted in several lectures from his father, interrupting his colour coordinating and flower arranging. Through all the anger that Burt had about the incident, Kurt had a sneaking suspicion that his dad was hiding a small amount of pride in his son for fighting back. That had almost made it worse; the last thing he felt about the entire incident was _pride._

Returning two days later to a school whose populace thought he was a violent gay predator was hardly an improvement. The guys in glee had of course believed in Kurt's innocence, and there had been no less than five separate fights in the locker rooms during football practice over it. Kurt was ambivalent over this news; on the one hand, it was heart-warming to know he really did have friends in glee, but on the other hand, this wasn't their problem, and he really wanted this whole incident to just _disappear_.

He'd been anticipating further violence from his attacker, but Karofsky was actively avoiding his gaze in the hallways and in detention. However, the football players not in glee, out of loyalty to Karofsky and disgust that Kurt had shared their locker room last year, had been more than willing to pick up Karofsky's slack. Kurt couldn't walk between classes without being slammed into lockers multiple times. He had been slushied three times on Thursday and five times that Friday. And the students not actively participating in the rapidly escalating bullying were happy to merely walk by and snicker as he hit the ground or slush stung his eyes.

The only good thing about missing glee club for detention was that he avoided Rachel, who had tried to stop him twice in the hallway, but he ignored her as he ran to the bathroom to wash the sticky sweetness off his face. Not _that_ bathroom; he couldn't go back in there, so he would have to make his way to the gross, dingy one in the northeast hall. Besides, if he ran into the girl's bathroom, Rachel would undoubtedly follow him in there and he really wasn't that keen on hearing how _his_ assault had ruined _her_ life.

With the increased certainty of a daily slushy facial, he was reluctant to admit he was somewhat glad he had made the conscious effort to cut back the flair in his wardrobe, settling instead on old t-shirts and cargo pants he used to help his dad at work. He'd lied to the others about his new fashion choices, stating that the thought of losing his McQueen sweater to food colouring was too painful.

But, when he was honest with himself, he knew he was dressing in the common, baggy clothing because Karofsky's comments about him "having it coming" while wearing those "tight ass pants" had been burned into his brain. The night of the incident, when he'd changed out of his clothes, he'd held out his skinny jeans, and nausea flooded him. Of course his style choices were supposed to attract attention, but not _that _kind of attention. It hurt to abandon his considerably superiour style, but it sickened him more to think of what his daring choices could have cost him. The shame was numbing.

Timid, beaten and unfabulous were three things that Kurt Hummel didn't wear well. He was miserable.

At the wedding, the club had put together a surprise number in Kurt's honour, and Finn even got up the guts to dance with him. It had been sweet, and it had lifted his spirits at the time, but it wasn't long before the sadness, the loneliness and the overwhelming depression at his, if possible, even lower social status crept back the following Monday. It became his pastime during class to hold his phone under his desk and delete the hurtful, ignorant posts on his Facebook wall before giving up and setting his profile to the highest privacy setting possible. The glee club had done what they could, but they couldn't be with him every second of every day, so the week leading up to sectionals was just as painful and sticky as his first week back. By Wednesday, he'd given up on being angry over the faculty's blatant obliviousness to his plight.

It didn't help that he went home to an empty house charged with the task of packing for the move while his dad and new stepmother were on their honeymoon in Hawaii. He was very conflicted about asking Finn over to help. Kurt simultaneously hated being around people, and couldn't stand being alone. He'd decided on packing in solitude because he was afraid he'd confess everything to Finn, and that just couldn't happen.

So, yes, like the rest of New Directions, he was upset on the bus ride to sectionals. Unlike the rest of the glee club members, he was upset about something real. Of course he was grateful for them and how supportive they'd been; he didn't know how he would have survived the past two weeks without them. But god, they were such children sometimes. Mike and Brittany might be cheating on Tina and Artie? _Are they serious?_ Finn had slept with Santana last year? _How could anyone not have known that? Who cares?_

Kurt shut off his music and reached into his messenger bag for the item he had been thumbing through all week. A brochure; on the navy blue cover was the red outline of a crest with the letter "D" etched in the middle. '_Dalton Academy Admissions Guide'_ read the fancy text at the bottom. He sighed, opening to the back page, staring dejectedly at the tuition. It had been a fever dream before the wedding; but with the honeymoon and the down payment on the new Hudmel house, transferring was even more of a fantasy than before.

"Wassat?"

Kurt jumped at the question, instinctively trying to hide the brochure, but Puck grabbed it out of his hands as he hopped down in the adjacent seat at the back of the bus.

"It's a brochure for Dalton Academy," Kurt stated obviously.

Puck turned it around in his hands, "You mean one of the schools we're competing against today? The Swallowers, right?"

"The _Warblers_," Kurt corrected, snatching the brochure out of Pucks hand and tucking it back into his bag. A light went off in Puck's eyes.

"Oh, wait, did you _actually_go spy on them when I said to?" Kurt shrugged, looking back out the window. "Damn, Hummel, where have you been hiding all this badassness?"

Puck had been possibly the most supportive of the glee boys over the incident, wishing he could have been there to see that 'epic, brutal beatdown.'

"I was totally kidding, but if you've got the goods on the competition, out with it! I like Rachel, but maybe dirt will get her to stop her freaking moaning."

Now that he'd taken his headphones out, Kurt could hear actual moaning from Rachel's seat a few rows up. She wasn't getting a solo at sectionals either, though Kurt could hardly spare an ounce of sympathy.

"There's no dirt, or at least, I don't have any," Kurt admitted. Puck looked confused. "I didn't actually find the Warblers choir room that day; the school was practically empty, so I went to the office to ask where I could find them, but I figured that wasn't entirely covert so I left."

"But you grabbed the pamphlet…wait," Puck hesitated, looking around and lowering his voice. "Is it a gay school, for real?"

"No," Kurt narrowed his eyes, elongating the word. "It's just…it apparently has a zero tolerance bullying policy, and it's strictly enforced."

"Sounds boring," Puck rolled his eyes.

"Sounds too good to be true," Kurt mumbled, looking back out the window. He felt a shove against his shoulder, and as he had started to notice become a habit of his, he crouched in on himself at the unwanted physical contact.

"Hey!" Puck snapped quietly. "You're not thinking of actually bailing, are you? Hey, Hudson!" Puck whispered over to Finn, whose head snapped back, and seeing Puck's signal, walked to the back of the bus, sitting in the second last row.

"What's up?"

"You're step-bro's thinking of ditching us at sectionals to join up with the prep school butt boys."

"What? Kurt?"

"Puck! Finn, no," Kurt whispered harshly, "it's not like that. God, it's not even about show choir."

"Then what's it about?" Finn asked desperately. The two of them had just finally gotten to a point where they were cool with each other; that Kurt hadn't told him this was clearly distressing Finn. He didn't really want to confess this while Puck was in the vicinity, but with both of them staring down at him, and with him wanting to be honest with his new step-brother, Kurt took a breath and explained.

"It's just…you guys have been great. You have. But you can't get it. No matter how much you've slid down the social ladder by staying in glee club, you can't possibly understand. Last year at this time you had _just stopped_ throwing me into dumpsters, and now you've got my back. And it's great but…there's no shortage of people wanting to toss me into dumpsters, you know? Especially after the lies Karofsky spread about me. I'm proud of who I am, but outside of glee, I have people lining up, every day, telling me that I shouldn't be. I don't want to run away from my problems; I'd prefer to face them head on. But it's _exhausting._" Kurt sighed.

"But, Kurt, come on. McKinley sucks, but New Directions is your home. We're your friends." Finn offered.

"It is, and you are... Maybe this makes me weak, or a coward, but is it so wrong to want to be part of a world where I don't have to spend each day fearing and loathing every single one of my peers?" Kurt refused to let the tear in the corner of his eye drop. Friends now or no, he really didn't want to cry in front of Puck.

"It doesn't matter, anyway," Kurt filled the silence. "It's expensive as hell and there's no way my dad can afford it. It's just a daydream. Soon it'll be Christmas vacation, and then the New Year, and maybe people will just _forget_ about me. The football championship will be coming up then; maybe they can resume fighting amongst each other and just leave me alone."

"Ehem!" The three boys heads whipped around, freezing at the sight of a clearly disturbed Rachel Berry staring back at them. Well, not Finn; her gaze only flickered to him before staring intensely back at Puck, before her eyes wavered there and she was only looking at Kurt.

"Don't. Move." Puck whispered loudly. "She can't see you if you stay perfectly still."

Rachel's glare intensified; clearly she had been listening in to their conversation. She looked as though she was about to say something, but was cut off as she braced herself when the bus came to a faster-than-normal stop.

"Alright guys! Sectionals!" Schuester shouted excitedly from the front of the bus, but he was met with twelve angry moans. "Come on, come on! Chins up, guys. We've got a trophy to win!"

* * *

><p>Sitting in the audience, Kurt's mood improved slightly. Before intermission, the old people from the Hipsters, even without a shot at winning, had been surprisingly endearing. He looked around at the other New Directions members; they looked bored, or nervous, or angry.<p>

He caught Mr. Schuester's eye for a minute; that disappointed, wary look _still_ on his face, two weeks later, and Kurt was overcome with the urge to punch it off. He knew Schuester had seen him lose his mind, but he'd broken up fights between Puck and Finn before and Kurt was almost certain they'd never gotten this amount of grief. He pointedly rolled his eyes, and looked back to the stage.

"From Westerville, Ohio, please put your hands together for the Dalton Academy Warblers!"

Kurt sat up a little straighter in his seat and clapped politely. Ever since he'd failed spying on them a month back, he'd wondered what he'd missed out on. Flipping through the brochure a hundred or so times since then, he thought that knowing what kind of glee club they were would have rounded out his private fantasies about transferring.

In retrospect, it had probably been for the best that he hadn't known quite how much had been absent from his fantasies.

The curtain rose, and there stood a dozen or so boys, finely dressed in grey pants and navy blue blazers, trimmed with red piping and embroidered with the same crest from the front of Kurt's brochure. They wore red and navy striped ties, and their shoes were all finely polished. There was something about the way they stood, arms folded, heads down, that made them look less like a team, and more like an army, and Kurt could sense in that split second the rest of New Directions feeling slightly intimidated by their uniformed opponents.

Most of the boys started to hum the _a cappella_ backup, and then the dark-haired boy in the center opened his mouth to sing.

"_Before you met me, I was alright  
>but things were kinda heavy, you brought me to life,<br>now every February, you'll be my valentine."_

Kurt's heart began to swell for a number of different reasons. One being that the _a cappella _sounded fantastic; they were a very tight team, and the arrangement was stunning. Another was that they were singing a decidedly female song, for a competition audience, and couldn't have looked more comfortable with it. How he envied them.

"_Let's go all the way tonight, no regrets, just love.  
>We can dance until we die, you and I will be young forever."<em>

But the main source of his shallow breathing and racing pulse was without a doubt the dark-haired boy singing lead. His voice was clear and lovely. His eyes were hazel and dreamy. His smile was charming and infectious. His confident attitude, his enthralling personality, shined through performance, even if he was performing the most rudimentary of dance steps. Kurt was positive it was pure attraction clouding his judgement, but he could swear that the lead singer, through all his smouldering, was singing the song directly to him.

"You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream…"

_You ARE a dream, _Kurt could barely blink.

"…the way you turn me on, I can't sleep…"

_I have never been this turned on in my life, _Kurt could feel his mouth dry.

"…Let's run away and don't ever look back, don't ever look back..."

_OKAY,_ Kurt's brain screamed. _Take me with you! I'll go anywhere with you!_

"…My heart stops when you look at me…"

_My heart is beating faster than I've ever felt_.

"…Just one touch, oh baby, I believe…"

_Oh, god, I want to touch you everywhere._

"…This is real, so take a chance and don't ever look back…"

He was mesmerized, hypnotized. He was certain he was blushing. He gripped the program in his hand tightly and bit his lip as his internal monologue continued to descend into lust-fueled insanity through remainder of the song, and then through the Warbler's rendition of "Hey Soul Sister."

Kurt absorbed every word, adoration consuming him, and when the second song was over, he jumped to his feet, a tear in his eyes, applauding and whooping. Mercedes grabbed his shoulder and pulled him down hard into his own seat, the rest of New Directions glaring at him suspiciously as they politely clapped.

"Sorry," Kurt was certain that all the blood in his body was flooding his cheeks. Well, not _just_ his cheeks. "They were just…really good."

"Well if you're done being a 13 year old girl at a Bieber concert," Santana remarked, "move your ass and get up, because we haz to gets on stage now and beat _that_."

As they headed backstage, Mercedes gave him another narrowed look, and a flushed Kurt simply repeated breathily "He-…they were very good. _Very_ good."

_Oh god,_ Kurt thought, succeeding in fighting back the slight tightness in his pants just in time. _This can't be good._


	3. What Would I Pay To Stay Here Beside You

**Chapter 3 – What Would I Pay to Stay Here Beside You?**

The ride back from Sectionals was substantially more jubilant than the ride to. New Directions and the Warblers had tied for first place; both were going on to compete at Regionals. Yet, the atmosphere was filled more with happy relief than with triumph. The audience and the judges had been taken with "Time of My Life" and had been suitably impressed with Santana's vocals and Mike and Brittany's exuberant dancing during "Valerie." However, it was generally agreed upon that the novelty of the Warblers, their seamless a cappella of Top 40 hits and the undeniable charisma of their lead singer, could have easily trumped New Directions' rag tag likeability and crowd pleasing nostalgia. The mood on the bus was celebratory, without a doubt, but they were very conscious that if New Directions was going to place at Regionals, they were going to have to step up their game.

"To ensure our winning at Regionals, and therefore _not only_ the advancement of our team to Nationals in New York, but the continuation of our club's very existence at McKinley High, I'm sure we can all agree that our best shot is to place me, your humble co-captain, at the center of our next competitive performance!" Rachel bubbly announced from the front of the bus. She shot a look to Mr. Schuester, whose smile faded instantly, but before he could chide her, she yelped and ducked to avoid the many objects flying towards her head. Rachel jumped back up, huffed as she adjusted her hair, stated "You all know I'm right," before spinning around and crossing her arms pointedly, flopping down. She couldn't really storm out of a moving bus.

"I think we've had enough competition talk for one day. Victory party in the choir room?" Schuester asked, and was met with affirmative cheers.

Sitting in the back seat again, Kurt was happy, he couldn't deny it. He couldn't help but ride the collective high from winning, even if he'd contributed very little to it happening, bobbing along in the background. He was still a part of this group; he loved them, and it was times like this that, in the moment, felt like all the crap he had to put up with was worth it.

On top of this, his nerves were still jumbled over the dark haired crooner that had led their competition. He'd never seen a male performer like that in show choir; sure Jesse St. James had been as talented, but he'd also been covered in the un-maskable stench of Rachel Berry. This guy, whoever he was, was clean. Polished, charming, seductive, confident. He could sing, he could perform. He could make Kurt fall in love with him with just a wink in his direction. It was possible Kurt had made the last part up, but he didn't care. Love at first sight was something Kurt Hummel had never experienced, and he would just soak up all the euphoria his hormone-addled brain was willing to produce.

And Kurt would get to see that boy perform again! He was certain he was the only one overjoyed with the first place tie.

His joy deflated slightly at the sight of Puck slinking back towards him; their conversation hours ago re-entering his mind. Puck wasn't the only one who looked keen to re-ignite the discussion; Rachel was eying him from the front. As a pre-emptive strike, Kurt reached two seats ahead, pulled Finn's shirt hard enough that he was forced to clumsily move back and sit in the seat next to Kurt. It was successful; Rachel diffused at the sight of her boyfriend, dramatically spun around and headed back towards the driver's seat.

"Thanks for the warning, bro!" Finn adjusted his shirt, annoyed.

"Sorry, defensive tactic; had to act quickly." Kurt mumbled, eying Puck as he sank into the seat in front, arm over the back, facing them.

"Great day, huh?" Puck smiled, knowingly. Kurt nodded happily.

"Yeah! I'm happy as co-captain to see we could pull it together as a team." Finn affected his trademark team-player persona.

"I was actually talking to your boy here." Puck said aggressively, then raised his eyebrows suggestively. "Liked what you saw of the competition, didn't ya Hummel?"

Kurt wavered as he re-iterated, "They were very go-"

"Cut the crap. You looked like you were about to cream yourself!"

Kurt's eyes shot open, red flooding his cheeks. Finn shifted uncomfortably in the seat beside him, avoiding his gaze. As much as their relationship had progressed, neither boy was quite at the stage where they were ready to talk about Kurt's attraction to any guys, let alone so crudely. Kurt had been over Finn for months, but it was still too soon.

"Yeah, I thought so." Puck added knowingly. "Which guy was it? The blonde guy in the back? The skinny Asian? Or was it, like, just a full prep school orgy up on that stage in your head?"

"Dude!" Finn shouted.

"Puck! Shut. Up!" Kurt exhaled heavily, finding his voice again.

"What?" Puck looked confused. "Oh…no! I'm not messing with you! I actually care." Kurt quirked an eyebrow, suspicion evident. "I'm serious! I know Karofsky's full of shit about what happened in the bathroom, but you're a guy! You can't be thinking all rainbows and sunshine. You're my boy now. Guys always talk about sex stuff with their boys."

"It's pretty much all he talks about," Finn confirmed, resigned.

"I'm sorry, but I don't believe that you could possibly have an interest in my _gay_ fantasies." Kurt whispered harshly, trying to deflect.

"Pfft. Meet the new, improved Noah Puckerman. Gay. Straight. Girls. Guys. Getting laid is getting laid, bro. If I can assist any of my boys in the 'getting laid' department, I'll do it." Puck quickly added, "Not in a gay way, though."

Kurt was incredibly uncomfortable, but Puck's hilarious new 'progressive' outlook helped him regain his guarded sense of superiority. "Well, thank you Puck, for the generous offer of your services, and finally acknowledging that I am indeed a boy, but-"

"It was the lead singer, wasn't it?" Puck wiggled his eyebrows. "Pretty hot, I guess, if I swung that way-"

"Come on, man. Leave him alone. Kurt clearly doesn't want to talk about it." Finn interjected, sounding a little desperate.

But the colour returning to Kurt's cheeks spoke volumes while he remained pointedly silent.

"Uh huh" Puck loaned a crooked smile. "Hey, I've got an idea. You wanna go to that dweeby school for nerds so badly? They're probably on their way back to Hogwarts or wherever to celebrate, same as us. Why don't you skip Schue's apple cider and Berry's eventual nervous breakdown, and go _check out_ the competition for Regionals? For real, this time."

Kurt's eyes were wide with surprise; that…didn't sound like a bad idea. He tilted his head slightly as he considered.

Finn disagreed. "No, Kurt. We just won! You gotta come to the party. You don't wanna abandon the team to go to that school…" he added, not so subtly.

"Actually, Puck might be on to something…" Kurt caught his interested tone, dropping it down to reasoned, "I mean, Rachel will undoubtedly demand that we discuss our plans for Regionals in great detail; who's to say that The Warblers won't be doing the same? They were very tight performers; I bet they plan out their numbers months ahead of time."

"But you can't just ditch! What are you gonna tell Mr. Schue?" Finn asked.

"Nothing; you can just tell him I was feeling sick and had to go home. It's not like he'll care anyway; he didn't mind me missing rehearsals for two weeks. He probably thinks I don't even deserve to share in the victory." Kurt didn't hide his bitterness. "I'll take the Escalade; Puck, can you drive Finn home?"

Puck paused a bit at the question, but any hesitation Kurt saw evaporated in an instant. "Sure, it's the least I can do…for my boy, I mean." He added quickly, nodding to Kurt.

"Great!" Kurt squeaked. He clasped his hands together excitedly, elbows at hard angles. "Now, leave me to plan my espionage outfit! I'm thinking black; sleek, slimming…"

* * *

><p>Two and a half hours later, Kurt was regretting the black dress shoes he'd added to complete his otherwise flawless ensemble, wishing he'd opted instead for the red Converses, even if they clashed horribly. Every step he took on the marbled floors clicked loudly and echoed through the empty hallways of Dalton Academy. He was used to sacrificing for fashion, and it felt great to be back in his signature stylish attire, but he would never forgive himself if his need to look his best blew his otherwise stealthy break-in.<p>

He crept around the corner into a large, round room with a winding staircase wrapping the walls and an ornate chandelier dangling from the high ceiling. He could hear laughing and shouting in the distance; it had to be coming from the Warbler's choir room, where they were probably having their post-sectionals shindig.

Kurt only made it three steps across the room before he had to about face, exiting quickly and pressing his hard back against the small expanse of wall just outside the archway. He'd hoped his hiding place was sufficient. Noting that it most certainly wasn't, he then hoped the owners of the rapidly approaching voices were headed up the stairs instead of through the room and into the hallway where Kurt was hiding, very much in plain sight.

"-just tell me. You can tell me!" one of the voices pleaded. The obvious sound of shuffling and stumbling accompanied it.

"Nuh uh," said a clearly different boy.

"Out with it. Start singing, Anderson."

"_You make meeeeeeeee feel like I'm living a teeeeeeeenage dream…"_ a musical deflection. Kurt's heart fluttered at the singing. _It's him!_

"Stop avoiding, Blaine!" _Blaine. His name is Blaine. What a dreamy name._ "If you…if you can't confess these things to your best friend when you're so drunk you're clearly going to puke…"

"Not gonna puke!" _Blaine_ snapped defensively. "I don't puke when I'm drunk! I _may _get…handsy…and I might feel the need to dance my ass off and sing my guts out…but I'm not gonna puke! I swear, I swear. Take me back to the party, David! I swear."

"You at least need a time out. You were all over Wes to get him to duet with you. Like, _all _over him."

"Was I?" A beat. "So?"

"He's not gay, Blaine, for one thing," A light chuckle. Kurt had to cover his mouth to stop himself from squeaking with joy.

"Offense! I take offense! A guy…" hiccup, "excuse me, doesn't have to be _gay_ to do a duet with another guy…" _Blaine_ added teasingly.

"Speaking of, tell me!" David prodded. Kurt noted that the shuffling sound of shoes appeared to be climbing stairs.

"No!"

"Blaine!"

"You're just gonna judge and laugh and make fun with your judgey face and your judgey pants." _Blaine_ slurred.

"I won't. I promise."

"Fiiiiiiiiine" a heavy, hiccupping sigh. The clicking of shoes stopped. "_Come What May._"

A short moment passed, "You broke your promise! You're laughing! You…" hiccup, "are a liar, sir!" _Blaine_ said in what was clearly mock indignation.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! But when you said 'dream duet', I thought you meant something we could pull off at Regionals. And that wasn't so…dramatically romantic. And, you know, meant to be sung between two lovers…"

"I know I know! 's why I said 'dreeeeeeeeeam.' I don't expect…I don't think I could sing it with any of the Warblers. I was talking about at, like, my dreeeeeam wedding, with my dreeeeam guy, in my dreeeeams…"

"You're such a hopeless roman— careful!" The shout echoed loudly, and there were several thumping noises before a loud smack reverberated throughout the hall. The squeaking sound of rapid footsteps accompanied David's panic "Crap! You okay?"

Laughing, "I'm fiiiiine."

"You fell down like…5 stairs, Blaine."

"I'm alright, I swear!"

"It looked like you knocked your head against the banister."

"That makes you a _terrible_ bathroom escort, then." Giggling.

"Open your eyes. Blaine!"

"'m fine! I would just appreciate it if the room stopped spinning." He sighed.

"Come on. Get up. Open your eyes."

"No! Not until the spinning stops."

"We'll head back to the choir room. I believe you, you won't throw up. Just get up!"

"I like the floor! The floor doesn't judge me _or_ my duet fantasies."

"Ugh, Blaine! Wait, your wrist…did your watch cut it?"

"I don't feel any-, yeah, that's blood."

"The gash is pretty deep, man. Get up. Stop. Resisting! UMF!" A thumping sound. "…Seriously? You're just gonna lay there?"

A murmur of affirmation.

"Fine! Don't move. I'll be back with a band aid or something. I think you're going to need stitches though."

"My hero!" _Blaine_replied in a mumbled, mocking tone.

Kurt could hear David running, luckily in the opposite direction, shouting "You're an ass, Blaine Anderson!"

Okay, so _Blaine_ was a bit of an ass when he was drunk, but as Ms. Pilsbury found out the hard way last year, Kurt wasn't particularly adept at holding his liquor either. At least _Blaine _was a charming ass. Who wanted to sing one of Kurt's favourite songs. _With a boy_. Because he was gay. He was dreamy _and_ gay.

Kurt's hand moved to clutch his face, his mouth, his throat; he was so overcome with emotion. At his neck, he could feel his black Alexander McQueen scarf. Kurt pondered a second; _Blaine_ was lying there, bleeding out. It could be ten minutes or more before David came back, and Blaine shouldn't really be left alone if his injury was serious. Kurt really didn't want to get caught for spying; he certainly didn't want to get kicked out of the school, and possibly have charges brought up against him for trespassing.

But he could hear Blaine humming the opening lines to "Come What May" and Kurt couldn't really think clearly anymore.

He poked his head around the corner, checking to see that no one else was in the room, then tip-toed as quietly as possible (_damn these shoes!_) towards the mass of lead Warbler on the ground, spread out a few feet away from the bottom of the staircase.

"…_like I've never seen the sky before…"_

Kurt looked down at Blaine, whose eyes were closed as he sung. Kurt took a moment to take in the sight of him; he was shorter than he looked on stage, but he was gorgeous. Or, he would be if he hadn't been making those dorky faces as he drunkenly belted out the lyrics, seemingly oblivious to Kurt hovering above him.

"…_want to vanish inside your kiss…"_

Kurt knelt down, carefully taking the boy's hand into his own. If Blaine noticed the contact, he made no move to indicate it; he was completely smashed, happy in his own world, singing to himself. Kurt delicately pulled back the sleeve, revealing the sharp-edged watch and the deep cut above it. It wasn't that bad; worth two stitches at most.

"…_listen to my h-"hiccup, "heart, can you hear it sing?..."_

Still, there was a lot of blood trickling down Blaine's arm. Kurt winced slightly, but this was not his favourite scarf, and he couldn't very well let the new object of his affection bleed all over his lovely blazer. He slowly pulled the scarf from his neck, bunched it up in his hand, and sopped up the blood the best he could.

"…_seasons may change, winter to sp-sp-spring…"_

Kurt had to admit that for someone completely pissed out of their mind, slurring or stumbling over almost every word, Blaine was fantastic at maintaining the melody. He wrapped the scarf twice around Blaine's wrist, pulling the knot tight to make sure he stopped the bleeding.

"…_come what may…"_

With his task complete, Kurt finally allowed himself to look back at the face of the boy who was unknowingly serenading him. He felt his chest tighten again. He felt the urge to reach out and touch Blaine's handsome face. To run his hands through the curls that had started to pop free of the copious amounts of gel.

But no, no. That would be creepy. Kurt supressed the need, flinching and pulling his hand back to the side of his bent knees. Hearing the faint echo of Blaine's singing dissipate at the end of the chorus stirred something inside him. He couldn't hold this back. He filled the silence.

"_Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place,_" Kurt's crystal clear voice bounced off the walls, and he darted his eyes quickly around the room to double check that there was no-one around to see. Satisfied, he looked back to Blaine, whose eyelids were faintly fluttering for the first time since Kurt had knelt beside him.

Kurt, closed his eyes, focusing on bringing back out the bold, daring aspects of himself. That voice of his that he'd felt been squashed, silenced, in the weeks prior. That voice that was pleading to break forth, to sing, to announce to the world that this was who he is and what he wanted. What he wanted most in that moment was to sing with Blaine. So he continued.

"_Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace,_" Kurt let the final note hang there, slightly weary of the head slowly rolling in his direction. Even if he couldn't see him through shut eyelids, Blaine was definitely aware that Kurt existed.

Blaine smiled a closed-eyed smile. Kurt felt his whole body sink.

As Blaine opened his mouth to join the harmony, Kurt felt a tug in his chest, his own voice moving to seamlessly blend with the dark haired boy spread before him.

"_Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste_," they sung in unison.

Kurt had moved forward on his knees, bracing a hand beside Blaine's head on the ground. "_It all revolves around you._"

This had been a bad move. From this perspective, he was looking directly down onto Blaine's beautiful face. His other hand, seemingly of its own volition, cupped Blaine's left cheek and jaw. Simply touching his skin, his face, sent a jolt through Kurt's body. His thumb began to circle smoothly under a closed eye, taking in the sensation of touching another boy, this boy, so intimately. There was something wrong with him, with this, Kurt knew, but god he didn't care. He was just content to feel, to stare. He'd never felt this way about _anyone_ before, and the two hadn't even spoke.

Kurt moved his hand to brush against Blaine's forehead, pushing back the loose curls as he did, but his hand stiffened as the fluttering eyelids lazily opened.

Blaine squinted, smiled, and spoke contentedly. "Hello."

Kurt chuckled at the simplicity, "Hi." He answered softly back.

"I'm Blaine."

"I know," Kurt added, stupidly.

"You sing _wonderfully. Beautifully._" Blaine sounded as awestruck as Kurt felt.

"So do you. You're a fantastic singer. And an amazing performer. And-"

"Magical, your voice is magical. Like an _angel_." Blaine's eyes fluttered closed again. Then his face scrunched up. "Am I dreaming you? I think I've dreamt this before."

Kurt had to quiet the butterflies in his stomach before he could respond. "Shh, it's okay." And he moved his hand back to the side of Blaine's face, caressing it gently again as it relaxed. God, he could just stay like this and stare down at this boy forever. But he was also consumed with a greater need. To bend down and kiss those soft lips, those lips that had sung so beautifully. With him, no less, a moment ago. It would be perfect…

And wrong. Kurt opened his eyes, his lips inches from Blaine's. He froze. He'd had his first kiss stolen from him; he didn't know if it was Blaine's first kiss or not. But it didn't matter; Kurt hated Karofsky for ruining his first kiss, for taking without asking, for corrupting the act in Kurt's mind. Kurt couldn't become that, even if Blaine had just called him an angel.

But another thought appeared fully formed in his mind; he could erase his first kiss. _This_ could be his first kiss, if he did it. And he wanted to, so very, very badly. But it would be wrong and-

Seemingly while Kurt was wrestling with his conscience, Blaine had opened his eyes again, enough to see Kurt's intentions. His hand quickly fingered through Kurt's hair, pulling him down as Blaine's mouth surged forward, pressing his lips perfectly against Kurt's.

Kurt stiffened for a split second, caught unaware. But the surprise passed quickly and Kurt melted into the kiss. His hand reached under Blaine's head, gripping his hair, supporting the weight, and the other hand moved delicately against Blaine's other cheek.

_Oh, my, god,_ was all Kurt's brain managed to process. The tug inside his chest pulled so heard he felt like his heart was going to burst forth from his body. Time slowed down.

Kurt moaned, kissing back passionately. Blaine returned every moan, every motion of his lips, his mouth seeking Kurt's hungrily. When Kurt felt the probing of Blaine's tongue, he opened his mouth immediately to allow access. He kissed, licked, sucked. He was running low on oxygen, barely taking the time to breathe through his nose. Kurt could taste the alcohol on the other boy's breath, but he was so far gone, so alive with lust, he couldn't bring himself to care.

Kurt and Blaine's tongues wrestled, until the kiss could get no deeper. Until their lungs could take no more, and Kurt was forced to pull back. He was panting heavily, eyes stinging slightly at the tears forming in the corners. He felt a pang of joy, electricity fizzling through him; blissful aftershocks. Blaine's hand moved from behind Kurt's head and softly brushed away one of the tears. Kurt leaned into his palm, absently noting the fabric of his scarf wrapped around Blaine's wrist. After Blaine had taken the necessary time to slow his breathing as well, his squinted eyes shut completely again.

"This is the best dream I've ever had; so real," Blaine smiled, his voice light, and he moaned contentedly. He yawned, placing his injured hand over his eyes; they probably were sensitive to the bright light from the chandelier above Kurt's head.

The hurried pitter-patter of footsteps moving toward him from far down the hall broke Kurt out of his trance. He removed his hand quickly from under Blaine's head and he scrambled towards the opposite archway, crawling quickly, around the corner. In his panicked haze, he could barely remember the way out, but luckily when he stood, his feet had seized control and before long he realized he was heading towards to proper exit. He rushed through the door, kicking up to full speed as he rounded his car, fumbling to open the driver's side, hopping into the seat, and starting the ignition. It was only as he moved his hand to shift into reverse that Kurt paused to reflect.

He couldn't believe what had just happened. He'd kissed a boy. Well, technically, the boy had kissed him, and Kurt had actually wanted, needed to kiss back. The boy, who sang wonderfully, had thought _his_ voice was "beautiful."

And he hadn't even told the boy his name. Hell, the boy wasn't likely to even remember this in the morning.

Kurt's stomach sunk at that thought.

But ultimately; the mood, the moment, the feelings. They had all been almost perfect. This _was_ his first kiss. He could cling to. How he wished that he could have a second, a third, a hundred more with Blaine. But there was no time for that now. Kurt chuckled, he groaned, but he pulled himself together for the drive home. He could weigh out all the pros and cons, when he was back home, safe in his bed. It wasn't like he was going to be thinking of _anything_ else for the next little while.

* * *

><p>"Blaine, I found some tape and gauze…what's up with you?"<p>

Blaine rolled his head back and forth on the ground, unable to open his eyes to look back at David, just sighing happily. "I just had the most amazing dream. An angel with beautiful blue eyes sang to me as he took care of me. There was a halo of light around his head. His voice was beautiful…"

"Uh, huh." David knelt down, unrolling the gauze.

"And then we made out for, like, ever." Blaine mumbled through a grin. "It was awesome."

"Sounds like it was a lovely drunk dream, Blaine. Now give me your wrist- huh?" David flinched as Blaine complied.

Wrapped tightly around Blaine's wrist was a black scarf with skulls. David was fairly positive it didn't belong to Blaine, and even if it did, Blaine did not have the capacity to have tied it himself. His confusion grew as he heard the echo of metal clicking loudly; the distinct sound the front door to Dalton slamming shut reverberating off the walls.


	4. They Called Me, Well, A Witch

**Chapter 4 – They Weren't Kidding When They Called Me, Well, A Witch**

_Dear Journal,_

_I AM HUMILIATED. Losing at Regionals has been without a doubt the singular most disgraceful event of my life, and that includes spending a week, nude, as the focal point in one of Yoko Ono's performance art pieces back in the '70s. How could this have happened? Is it so wrong to live vicariously through the almost inevitable death of one of your students as they are shot forth from a cannon? William Schuester seems to think so._

_Will Schuester. The thorn in my side. The pebble in my shoe. The obscenely curly pubic hair in my __soup__ Sue-p. Oh journal, not only have I lost the majority of my cheerleading budget, it's being funneled directly into HIS glee club. The nerve! I am consumed with a rage that can only be described as constipating. I MUST have my revenge. And my budget restored._

_But what am I to do, journal? I have tried to destroy him through every method I can think of…wait, no I haven't! That's it! How could I have forgotten my most powerful weapon of all; the Dark Arts! I've been too focused on taking out the king, I've forgotten this game can be won by knocking down the pawns. And speaking of knockers, I've got two traitorous ex-Cheerios I need to blackmail. Oh journal, Will Schuester and his dancing pack of Ebola-ridden monkeys will rue the day that they ever crossed Sue Sylvester._

* * *

><p>"Hey! Dumbellina, Princess Silicone," Sue shouted through the busy McKinley High hallways, "Front and center, I need to talk to you two treacherous harpies."<p>

"What's a 'treasure Sharpie'?" Brittany asked innocently. "Is it a permanent marker you find in a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow? Because today's Valentine's Day; not St. Patrick's Day. I don't think there are any leprechauns around..."

Santana rolled her eyes, but was too afraid of her former coach to ignore the command. "What do you want from us? We aren't Cheerios anymore. You can't order us around."

"You're right," Sue retorted simply. "You _aren't_ Cheerios anymore. You abandoned me at a pivotal moment, and if I were you, I'd be shaking in my hooker boots too. You know that _you_ can't just quit Cheerios. You know the contracts that you signed are legally and magically binding. I'd be shocked if you two haven't spent the past week, squirming with fear, wondering when I'm going to invoke the contract-breaking penalty."

Santana and Brittany exchanged looks of fear.

"No, Coach! Please don't! Have you seen how skin-tight my clothes are? They couldn't take me ballooning back up to a size 8!" Santana pleaded.

"I won't be able to dance well if my ginger hair and freckles come back!" Brittany reasoned.

"You can't do this!" Santana whispered harshly, aware of the students walking past, able to overhear her desperation if they were so inclined.

"Shut it!" Sue snapped. "I most certainly can. But I haven't. Yet. Any guesses as to why?"

"You want us to help you destroy glee club again?" Brittany asked in a rare moment of clarity.

"Bingo, Blondie!" Sue smiled.

Santana mulled this over. She didn't want to; as much as she hated some of the people in glee club, she liked being in it more than she ever liked being a Cheerio. But…her hips. "Fine, what do you want?"

"Intel, Booberella. First of all, who's your competition at Regionals?" Sue inquired.

"The Warblers; they're an all-boys _a cappella_ group from Dalton Academy. We tied with them at Sectionals. They're really good, but we're probably going to crush them this time around. Our main competition is going to be Aural Intensity."

"Ahh, yes. I remember them from judging last year." Sue mused. "Outstanding! Now, I need to know about your weak links. Is there anyone else in glee club I can exploit to tear the group apart?"

"What about Quinn? Didn't she sign a contract with you too?" Brittany asked.

"Oh, no. Not Teen Mom 2. This is the second time she's disgraced me; she will get no reprieve."

"What's going to happen to her?" Santana almost sounded concerned.

"Simple; no one in her sad little life will ever love her." Sue shrugged. "Anyone else?"

Brittany pondered for a second, then responded, "Well, ever since Kurt Hummel beat up that mean football player a few months ago, he's been pretty sad…"

* * *

><p>As Kurt finished shoving his books into his bag, he slammed his locker shut and the bang echoed throughout the hallways. Unnerved by his own violent action, he leaned forward ever so slightly, and looked down as he closed his eyes, pressing his forehead softly against the metal. He sobbed.<p>

He'd been put on glee club suspension. Again. The promise of a competition solo snatched away from him. Again. All because he wasn't willing to play one of Mr. Schue's stupid games.

Christmas break had come and gone, but the bullying had not. Kurt was still being taunted, slushied and shoved every day. The harassment was becoming unbearable; finally a few of his teachers had noticed and he'd had a private meeting with Principal Figgins about it back in January, but it had all the impact of a shoulder shrug in stopping the torture. Pretty much everyone still hated and was repulsed by the deviant little gay kid. Including most of the faculty.

He wasn't even trying to make his casual attire fashionable anymore; he'd resorted to borrowing clothing from Finn, just to make sure they were extra-baggy and form concealing. That he'd lost weight hadn't helped in keeping his pants from falling down, but the clothing did a fantastic job of covering up. Thankfully, the usually attentive Burt Hummel hadn't even noticed; Kurt was hyper aware that his dad was busy with their new household, his new wife, and his own health, and Kurt didn't want to burden him with his little high school problems. He'd get past this; he just needed to…survive.

Surviving had become his mission, and his only saving grace had been glee club. Until last week, when Schuester and Coach Bieste had the brilliant idea of forcing the football team to join glee club the week before the championship game. The locker-room fights between the glee club boys and the rest had escalated significantly, and it had been decided by the two teachers that a half-time show performance involving everyone would be the best way to mend the gap.

Kurt had been livid. The _one place_ at McKinley he'd been safe from scorn was suddenly overflowing with angry, testosterone-fueled jocks shooting him dirty looks every ten seconds. He'd sat in the back, as far away from them, from _him_, as possible; he'd thought he could get through that week if he just maintained his distance and they'd done the same. He'd survive.

But then Schuester had instructed all the glee boys, including Kurt, to line up in the middle of the choir room, facing a line-up of football players. At the end of each line, he'd placed Kurt and Karofsky purposefully, and both boys did everything to avoid the gaze of the other standing less than a yard in front of them. Walking down the line, Schue instructed that one at a time, each glee guy and football player extend a hand, shake, and then pull in for a one-armed bro-hug. Each pair had been reluctant, tossing off insults and threatening to leave, but each pair had caved in the end. Until Mr. Schuester had reached Karofsky and Kurt.

"Now I know you two have had your problems, but it's time to get over it and hug it out," Schuester had insisted.

"No way!" Karofsky had shouted.

"You can't be serious," Kurt balked angrily.

"Enough! If you two can't exchange a friendly hug, even for show, how can you expect to perform together?" Schuester demanded.

The football players tauntingly whooped at the word "hug," and Karofsky had shifted uncomfortably on his feet, eyes darting around the room, looking like he was about to bolt at any second. Kurt prayed (to no one in particular) that Karofsky would leave him hanging. Then Kurt couldn't be blamed. But then Karofsky had taken a heavy sigh and outstretched his hand.

The hand that had been on Kurt's mouth. The hand that had muffled his screams, that had forced his head into the wall as Karofsky had nibbled at his neck. The hand that had robbed him of his voice; that almost allowed the other hand to rob him of his innocence.

Kurt began to shake visibly. His chest tightened. It was as if the choir room, packed with anger and hatred and revulsion, was closing in on him and he couldn't breathe. It felt like Karofsky's body crushing him against the cold metal stall all over again. The colour drained from his face and his eyes remained unblinking. He was suffocating; he wanted to scream, but all he could manage was a quiet, defiant "No," before he stumbled clumsily out of the room, the laughter and Schuester's objections falling deaf on his ears.

Kurt hadn't returned to glee club at all that week, and hadn't performed at the half-time show. He'd planned to simply wait it out until Karofsky was gone. However, when he'd returned to glee club the following Monday, Schuester had pulled him aside, informing him that at the last minute, Karofsky had chosen to participate in the number, while Kurt had not. That he'd been hoping that Kurt could have gotten over his personal conflicts and put the team first. But that Kurt's abandonment during the glee club's moment of need had proven that he couldn't. That the consequences for this had to be on par with Coach Bieste's consequences for the football players, who had almost not participated either, but had come through in the last second like Mr. Schue had been hoping Kurt would. He wasn't getting booted from glee club, but his chance of performing a competition solo had effectively dropped to zero. Kurt was welcome to return to glee club in a couple of weeks if he wanted.

Kurt rapped his head against his metal, and kicked the locker beneath his hard for good measure. He spun around and exhaled as he slumped slowly to the ground. He couldn't take this anymore. Having glee club effectively taken away from him felt like the final nail in his coffin. He choked back tears, pulling his knees into himself and clutching them into his chest.

He watched, distraught, as kids in the hallways met up, leaving to go home for the day. Many were holding hands, kissing, or showing other various public displays of affection with absolutely no shame. Today _was_ Valentine's Day, after all. Many of his peers were going on dates or secret backseat rendezvous'. Kurt's heart ached in his chest, and he clicked on his phone, staring for the millionth time at the locked Facebook profile page of one Blaine Anderson.

The last few months, this had been Kurt's own self-inflicted torture technique, to distract from the many that his classmates had tried to exact on him. He'd shared an amazing, beautiful, downright dreamy kiss with Blaine that night; Kurt had never felt more alive than when his lips were touching Blaine's. And Kurt couldn't bring himself to so much make a friend-request, because every time he clicked the "add as friend" button, the text that would accompany the pop-up would include "Add a personal message." And every time, Kurt would just snort because all he could come up with was;

_Hey, I don't know if you remember the night after Sectionals when you were completely inebriated, but I'm the guy that snuck in and took advantage by making out with you. By the way, I'm your competition at Regionals and I hope you lose so I can go to New York this spring and never ever come back to this shithole of a town. Want to be friends?_

Kurt's only hope had been the Regionals competition. He'd had many a fantasy about singing a song, hopefully capturing Blaine's attention even a tenth as much as Blaine had caught his, possibly bumping into him backstage, kissing him, and deciding on the spot to elope to Vermont. These were the kind of thoughts that had gotten him through the day, the week, his life. He knew it was pathetic, but he didn't have anything else to cling to. And now, thanks to Mr. Schuester's stubborn obliviousness, Kurt didn't even have that.

"Kurt?" A voice came after the majority of students had filtered out for the day. Kurt wiped away his tears and stood up; air of superiority returning in an instance. There was no way he was going to let Rachel Berry see him wrecked, not like this.

"Yes?" he responded coolly, opening his locker, searching for a comb to fix his slightly messy hair. Just because his wardrobe was less than fabulous didn't mean his personal hygiene had to be.

"Are you alright?" Rachel asked carefully. Kurt stayed pointedly silent. "I mean, I heard what Mr. Schuester said to you in there. I think…I think he was being overly harsh."

Kurt turned slowly, cautiously, "Do you now? I figured you would have been the one championing his ousting me for _choosing_ to miss a second public performance. Especially if it means that you'll have one less competitor for solos at Regionals. And Nationals, if we are so lucky."

"Don't get me wrong," Rachel replied. "Normally I'd be thrilled that my chances for shining in a competition performance had increased significantly, but…I saw your face when Mr. Schue tried to make you hug Karofsky. As a budding actress, I'm incredibly adept at interpreting facial expressions. You don't just hate Karofsky. He _terrifies _you. He _repulses _you."

Kurt swallowed hard. Not even Mercedes had picked up on that, and that stung. Kurt had been rather put off by his best friend of late, ever since she'd made some offhanded comments that not-so-subtly implied that she hadn't found Karofsky's version of events to be completely without merit.

Rachel stepped forward and whispered, "Something happened in that bathroo-"

"I don't want to talk about it, Rachel." Kurt cut her off immediately.

"You need to talk to somebody, Kurt!" Rachel insisted. "Maybe not to me, but the longer you cut people off and out from your life-"

"He said he didn't want to talk about it, Munchkin," Santana's voice cut through as her arm wrapped around Kurt's shoulder. He stiffened. "Why don't you, I don't know, die alone, and leave me and Brit to take care of poor Kurt here. He obviously needs to speak to someone who doesn't suck all the oxygen out of the air when she breathes."

Rachel stomped. "Shut up, Santana! Kurt, come on!"

Kurt felt a twinge of remorse; Rachel had come to reach out to him. But he trusted her about as far as he could throw her, so he shook his head and said, "It's fine, Rachel. Go back to the choir room; I'm sure Mr. Schue has an excellent melody of Ke$ha songs for you to perform at Regionals, and you can't afford to skimp on the practice."

Santana smirked as Rachel huffed "This isn't over!" and stomped away. Kurt wasn't sure where Santana and Brit were leading him, but he saw no reason not to follow.

"Glee club blue got you down, Kurtastic?" Santana's voice dripped with faux-sincerity. "Or is it because it's Valentine's Day and you are, once again, tragically unhitched?"

Santana gave a quick but longing sideways glance to Brittany, but the blonde girl didn't notice as she was pre-occupied with trying and failing to suck on a heart-shaped candy that was stuck on her elbow. Santana plastered on her smile, and focused back on the sad boy between them.

"You're one to talk," Kurt retorted, lamely.

"Oh please, I could have anyone in this school at the drop of my panties. You on the other hand…" Kurt cringed internally, waiting for a hurtful insult, "…aren't really interested in anyone at _this _school, are you?"

Before Kurt could deny, Santana interjected "Puck told us; you've got a thing for The Thing in the Warblers."

"He's cute," Brittany added between failed licks at the candy, "He's like a singing dwarf. Or a Keebler elf. He's not as short as Artie in his wheelchair, which is sad, because with his mouth at that height, if I lift my leg and put my foot on his armrest, Artie can-"

"BRIT!" Santana snapped. "Anyways, Kurt," Santana took her arm off his shoulder and intertwined it with his, "what if I told you there was someone at this school that could make all your boy-on-boy show choir wet dreams come true?"

* * *

><p>Two minutes later, Kurt was sitting opposite of one Sue Sylvester. If you'd asked him how Santana had convinced him to agree to this meeting, he wouldn't have been able to tell you.<p>

"So, you've got a little crush, huh?" Sue chuckled through a wolf-like grin after Santana and Brittany had left the room.

"I'm sorry, Coach Sylvester. I appreciate a faculty member finally taking an interest in me at all, I really do, but I cannot in good conscience associate with you when you've made your attitudes about me and the glee club so blatantly clear."

Kurt moved to stand, but Sue barked out "Sit!" and he shot back down into the seat immediately.

"I don't know why Santana and Brittany brought me here, but I'm certain I'm wasting your time" Kurt managed to get out, much more timidly than before.

"Porcelain, Porcelain," Sue sighed. "Now you're right, I've made it no secret that I will not rest until your little band of singing miscreants is disbanded and I place the head of your depraved choir director on a pike outside my office as a warning to any future teachers who might attempt that sad, failed experiment and tell them to, yes, stop believin'. But this isn't about that, it's about you. And I kind of like you, Porcelain. Well, I don't hate you."

Kurt shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The ease with which Coach Sylvester spoke to him had always made him uneasy.

"Now, a little birdie with fake breasts told me that you are directing your over-stimulated teenage hormones towards a fetching young man at Dalton Academy. A boy in a _rival_ show choir. How perfectly Shakespearian; like Romeo and Julian."

As was the case when any thoughts of Blaine came crashing into his head, redness seeped onto Kurt's face.

"Does he know how you feel?" Silence from Kurt. "Does he know you're alive?" More silence. "Just as I thought. You can't let love slip through your fingers, Porcelain. You've gotta grip those reigns and ride that to completion." Kurt completely blanched.

"I…I can't, Coach. I've got no reason to approach him; he goes to a different…an expensive school. He's our competition. It's pointless to even dwell." Even though Kurt had dwelled. A chance to meet Blaine, again, for the first time? A fresh start that ended in more kisses? Yeah, he'd thought it over.

Sue smiled. "Now here's the part where we make a deal, because I'd really like to help you out."

"Since when did you help any of your students out without wanting something in return?" Kurt cocked an eyebrow.

"Of course my intentions aren't completely altruistic; that's why it's a deal. Now, what if I told you I had enough money hidden away in offshore accounts to pay for your tuition to Dalton for a month?"

Kurt's eyes shot open wide at this; she couldn't be offering that. That would be _insane._ "Why would you do that?"

"Well, it'd get you out of this school for a month and give you the opportunity to fall into the arms of your potential boy-toy. I could pass it off as a charitable scholarship from the private school, used to entice parents into paying full tuition. Not a big deal there. And if things go well between you and your hobbit, I might be inclined to continue paying your tuition on the down-low." Sue said the last bit out of the corner of her mouth.

Kurt simply repeated, "Why would you do that?"

"I'll level with you, Porcelain. I want your glee club disbanded so I can get my funding restored, and the only way to do that is to make sure New Directions places last at Regionals. With you out of the picture, the chances of that happening are that much greater. But I also can't stand losing. Oh, yeah. As of today, I'm coaching Aural Intensity as part of my multi-pronged attack on New Directions."

"How?" was all Kurt could manage to ask.

"Their former director is in the hospital. Long story. Point is, Aural Intensity needs to place first and New Directions need to place last, which places the Warblers squarely in second, and I'm not above rigging the game. It's not cheating if you win."

"But why pick me? Wouldn't it be better suited to your nefarious scheming to remove someone like Rachel?"

"I'm not deaf, dumb and blind like that idiot Schuester. I know how unstoppable you can be in a competition; I haven't forgotten how your 14-minute Celine Dion medley help the Cheerios clinch Nationals last year." Sue added in her head '_So I'm not taking any chances with you.'_

Kurt smiled; that had been a great moment last year. He'd been tempted to join the Cheerios again simply to relive that feeling.

Sue continued, "Feel free to frolic in those private school corridors, hand in hand with the boy of your dreams. I'd be happy to officiate your civil ceremony. But tuition is steep, and if I'm going to be making this kind of investment in your future happiness at that school, even when my cheer-leading budget is restored, I'm going to need some insurance. I need to know that it's the real deal."

"What does _that_ mean? How can you know that?" Kurt blinked.

"You believe in witchcraft? Well, you should, because it's as real as Figgins' B.O. You sign a contract, forfeiting your voice until you receive a kiss. A kiss of 'true love.' You get that kiss, give me a call, say 'Good day' in that trade-mark pre-pubescent pitch of yours and I'll continue funding your special education." Sue smiled.

"What-? How-?" Kurt stumbled on his words, trying to form a coherent thought at the insanity he'd just tried to absorb. "First of all, that's impossible. Second of all, even if it wasn't impossible, that is an _absurd_ condition."

"I don't make the rules; voice-restoration is the standard method practicing witches use to test for true love. It's really common amongst fiancées." Sue lied. The standard method was an enchanted mole that would disappear if their partner truly loved them; but she couldn't risk Kurt joining the Warblers and helping them defeat Aural Intensity. Sue did not lose.

"Okay, say I believe you. I can't make a guy fall in love with me, in a month, without being able to talk to him!"

"Sure you can! The most stable relationships occur between two people who hardly speak."

"And I can't abandon New Directions, knowing that you're explicitly trying to break them apart. They're the only ones who've been decent to me in this _entire school_…" But Kurt paused at that.

He wanted to fall in love, to hold Blaine's hand, to stare into his eyes and have Blaine smile back at him. He couldn't deny that was a huge part of the appeal of Coach Sylvester's ridiculous offer. But what was more appealing, what he certainly wouldn't let on, was that the _entire school_ had made his life a living hell the past few months. What if he could just get away from McKinley, even for a month? Just a break, a vacation. No taunting, no bullying, no fear. He knew that he was suffocating; a month away wouldn't be wasted if it gave him a chance to breathe. Surely the rest of the glee club would understand him running, if they only knew the full extent of what he was running away from.

He glanced up at Coach Sylvester, who was clearly relishing him weighing out the options in his head.

"I can't do that to my friends, my team," Kurt stated without much conviction.

"Why not? From what I hear, Schuester's been more than willing to kick you to the curb. You're barely a part of the team as it is; what makes you think staying here for them is going to do you or them any good? But if you take my offer, you'll have the one shot at happiness in your sad, pathetic teenage life."

"How can I just go around a new school _without a voice_?" Kurt clutched his throat; the thought terrified him. Despite all the horrendous aftermath of Schuester walking in on Kurt's retaliation against Karofsky, Kurt had at least been thankful that Schuester had heard his screaming, that it would have been loud enough to sound like an alarm had Karofsky gotten any further with his intentions. "What about my dad? What about…him?"

"Details, details!" Sue waved her hand through the air dismissively. "Look, it's all ironed out in the contract," she reached into her desk, "you don't have to worry about any of that. Your dad will accept the scholarship, no problem. The school will accommodate your condition without question. Magic's a pretty powerful thing."

"If it's so powerful, why don't you just use witchcraft to destroy glee club yourself?" Kurt countered.

"That's not how it works, Porcelain. It's all done by contracts; there has to be a willing party on either end of the spell." Sue clicked a pen and handed it to Kurt. "Are you willing?"

Kurt hesitated before taking the pen, fiddling with it in his hands. He stared down at the contract; instead of his name, underneath the dotted line, the word 'Porcelain' was printed. "My voice will just be gone for a month?"

"Only a month; only while you're still enrolled at Dalton." Sue confirmed. "You get that boy to fall in love with and kiss you before Regionals, you get it back even sooner. But if you fail, you lose your 'scholarship,' you'll come back to McKinley, but your voice will be returned to you fully intact. Seems like a good deal to me."

Kurt paused, breathed. This felt like giving up. This felt like he'd failed already. But at the same time, hope loomed. Hope of being safe, being loved. Taking that gamble had to be brave, right?

"Okay," he leaned forward and signed the document. _'Kurt Elizabeth Hummel.'_

Instantly, he felt a force pull at his insides; it felt like his lungs were trying to jump of his body. The sensation evaporated as quickly as it appeared, but when he'd tried to shout in surprise, no sound had come out. He tried to yell, to scream, to whisper; nothing. He felt trapped.

"NO!" Kurt whipped his head around to see several frantic bodies clamber into Sue's office. Leading the charge was Puck, followed by Finn, who was trying to break free of Brittany's grasp. Bringing up the rear was Santana, who had her arms wrapped around a struggling Rachel. Kurt tried to shout 'What the hell?' but was only able to mouth the words.

"Dude, tell me you didn't sign that thing!" Finn yelled at Kurt.

"What are you guys doing here?" Brittany asked simply.

"Rachel ran into the choir room and told us that Kurt was probably in trouble with you two," Finn looked between Santana and Brittany. "We followed him here."

"We were eavesdropping," Rachel admitted angrily. "We heard everything."

"Hummel, do you think I chose to have a Mohawk?" Puck shook his head. "Coach caught me sticking gum in one of her Cheerios hair back in ninth grade and used some freaky ass razor to shave all but the middle bit off. _It never grew back._ It does look badass, but she's pure evil!"

"Oh please, Puckerman. Magic isn't real, but even so, I can't believe Kurt would sell out his teammates like that!" Rachel elbowed Santana, causing her to release her grip. She surged forward, reaching beyond Kurt to grab the contract, fighting off a pissed Santana as she ran to the other side of the room.

"I'm sorry, Coach!" Santana begged as she tried to grab at Rachel. "We left the room just like you asked, but when we came back to stand guard, we saw these three dorks hiding outside your door!"

Finn turned to his step-brother, who had been motionless throughout the entire exchange so far. "Seriously, Kurt. I know you've been going through a lot of crap and whatnot, but that's no reason to throw in the towel with her." He pointed a finger accusingly at Coach Sylvester, who Kurt then noticed had been surprisingly silent and calm through the commotion. She leaned back in her chair.

"I want to thank you ladies for escorting these three hooligans in here," Sue said evenly. "Their entrance into my office invokes the 'what's said in Sue's office stays in Sue's office' clause of the contract. Had they hung outside the door, they could have blabbed to anyone. But since they stand here now, they won't be able to speak about what they've heard to another living soul." She grinned wickedly.

"Oh my god, Kurt!" Rachel barked from the corner, waving the contract frantically in her hands. "Did you actually read this?"

Kurt shook his head, ashamed and distraught. Upon hearing Sue talk about 'clauses,' he realized in retrospect that he probably should have glanced at more than his nickname before signing.

"It says here, in super fine print, that if you fail to get your kiss of 'true love' by end of the Warbler's Regionals performance, you get your voice back, but _New Directions forfeits theirs!_" Rachel shrieked.

Kurt froze at that, head whipping around, pleadingly at Coach Sylvester, mouthing that it couldn't be true. But her evil stare told him everything he needed to know. Oh god, what had he done? He stood up, enraged.

Finn interjected, "The Regionals program was posted just today; we're performing last!"

Rachel's eyes practically jumped out of their sockets. "Oh my god! My voice! My talent! My ticket into Broadway legend! All gone because _you couldn't keep it in your pants!" _

"_My_ ticket into all of Lima's MILF's skirts! Gone!" Puck added angrily.

"Kurt, how could you do this to us?" Finn asked earnestly.

"If I were you three, I'd be less focused on the consequences of Porcelain's inevitable failure and trying anyway to get him that special kiss from that lucky guy." Sue winked. The three intruders, the two ex-cheerleaders, and Kurt all stood, attentive. "Porcelain's got a busy day ahead of him tomorrow, new school and all. What with his condition, he's gonna need all the help he can get." She pointed to the door, bored. "Now get the hell out of my office. I have a winning show-choir number to choreograph."


	5. You'll Have Your Looks, Your Pretty Face

**Chapter 5 – You'll Have Your Looks, Your Pretty Face**

"No, no, two 'M's, one 'L'. H-U-M-M-E-L," Finn clarified, patiently. "It's okay, I still spell it wrong sometimes, too. And he's my brother." He laughed.

Finn had to admit, this secretary was far nicer than the one at McKinley. She looked up at him when she was speaking to him, she spoke slowly enough that he could understand her and didn't mumble. She called him 'darling.' She also wasn't lacking in the boob-department and she had a pretty face, so Finn had liked her almost instantly. But what impressed Finn the most, with the exception of the misspelling of 'Hummel,' was the ease with which all this registration paperwork was happening. He had been terrified there'd be more questions, what with Kurt's…problem.

Finn could hardly say he was surprised, though, considering what had happened the previous night. After what had gone down in Coach Sylvester's office, Rachel had pulled Kurt, Puck and him into the then empty choir room and yelled her head off for what seemed like an hour. Finn couldn't really remember what about; he was certain Kurt didn't either because after about 10 minutes Finn noticed Kurt had stopped crying and shouting things no one could hear, and started staring at his nails and sucking on his teeth. Eventually Kurt had stood, snapped his fingers, shushed her, and then had written on the whiteboard '_I need your help. Or we're all screwed. No voice. How?"_

Luckily, Puck, Finn and especially Rachel were able to put aside their collective rage at their predicament and come up with something resembling a plan. At first, Kurt proposed '_Deaf?'_ but Rachel had started playing a song from _Wicked_, and Kurt couldn't pretend to look uninterested when he heard it. Kurt couldn't fake being deaf for a month. But then Finn had brought up the Indian guy from the Big Bang Theory who couldn't speak to girls, and Rachel had proposed that Kurt claim he was "mute." Finn hadn't understood what that meant but Kurt seemed to.

The car ride home had been uncomfortably silent, but Finn had eventually apologized for flipping out on Kurt. That clearly he hadn't been doing his job as a brother in having Kurt's back. He'd work harder this time; do anything Kurt needed, both because he felt guilty and because he was genuinely afraid Rachel might actually go on a school-wide rampage if she lost her voice too. Kurt had patted his shoulder, which Finn had assumed was a sign of forgiveness.

It turned out the hour they'd spent trying to figure out how to break the news of the transfer to their parents without letting on to Kurt's new mutism has been a waste. As soon as the step-brothers had walked into the Hudmel residence, Burt and Finn's mom were waiting there with big smiles on their faces, congratulating Kurt on his scholarship. Then they had ushered him upstairs and fawned over the Dalton Academy uniform and other clothing Finn's mom had picked up earlier that day. There was no need to pack Kurt's considerably over-stuffed wardrobe; all the clothes he would need would be provided and waiting for him in his new dorm room. Apart from the blazer, tie and pants, there were Dalton sweaters, Dalton t-shirts, Dalton scarves, pyjama bottoms, socks, boxers…Finn thought it was a bit much. Because Finn knew how important clothes were to Kurt, Finn noticed Kurt looked less than pleased. What had been most bizarre, however, was that neither parent seemed to notice the whole time that Kurt wasn't speaking.

So, the next day, when he'd driven Kurt to Dalton, since Burt and his mom both had to work early, Finn thought there might have been a chance that things would go over smoothly there too. If Burt Hummel, of all people, hadn't noticed that Kurt hadn't made any snappy remarks about clothing he wasn't fond of, Finn reasoned there had to be magic in the mix.

"So, you're sure that Kurt's, uh, mutism isn't going to be a problem here?" Finn asked again, as the secretary finished typing Kurt's proper details into the computer.

"Oh, no, definitely not," she smiled. "All his teachers have been informed of the situation; he won't be called on in class, he won't have to perform any oral presentations. We pride ourselves on being accommodating to all of our student's needs here at Dalton."

"And, um, what about…teasing? For, being mute…or gay…or whatever?" Finn said in a hushed tone.

"No worries. We have a _very strict_ zero-tolerance policy, and that includes cyber-bullying like Facebook or email. The number of incidents here are by far the lowest in the state; the faculty and staff are very alert about it, and we appoint senior students as hall monitors. Bullying is almost non-existent here," she responded happily.

"Oh, cool. Kurt could really use that; he had some problems at his last school," Finn gave a crooked smile. "I'm glad he'll be safe here; he's my brother, you know?"

The lady nodded and handed him Kurt's class schedule and the keys to his new dorm. Finn left the fancy office and turned into the fancy hall to give it to Kurt, who was waiting outside with Puck and Rachel when he'd realized that he was going to be useless in speaking to the secretary anyway.

As Finn rounded the corner, he was met with the sight of Rachel's horrified open mouth and Kurt's wide-eyed, stunned expression. They were staring at Puck, whose face was scrunched up as he was gripping nothing in front of him and humping the air.

"And then you…" Puck smacked an invisible ass, "…and then you…" he lifted one leg and slowed his thrusting, "…and then you end with a…" he lowered his foot and started to hump the air faster until Finn grabbed him and shook him.

"Dude, what the hell?" Finn whispered loudly. A couple of the Dalton students walking through the hallway had given them sideways glances that varied between disapproval and amusement.

"I was showing my boy here how to make someone fall in love with him," Puck stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He shrugged when he was met with silence, "What? That's how Puckanova gets it done."

Rachel finally regained her ability to speak, "Puck's _obscene_ demonstration aside, he has a point. You are going to have to get Blaine's attention with some sweeping, romantic act. It's a shame you can't sing, because the only fateful meetings that resulted in romance I can think of involve strikingly sudden professions of love through song."

"What about, like, flowers and candy?" Finn offered. "Gay guys like that too, right? It's the day after Valentine's; all that stuff goes on sale for like half price." Finn added, mumbling, "I know because I always raid the supermarket for those heart-shaped boxes of Smarties."

Kurt's expression communicated rather strongly that he found none of their advice helpful.

Puck noticed something and tapped Kurt hurriedly, "Teenage wet-dream, twelve o'clock."

Kurt spun around, eyes fixing on the thick-eyebrowed boy that Finn recognized from Sectionals. Kurt exhaled, eyes and smile wide, tilting his head and looking dreamily on at the rapidly approaching Warbler.

Finn's first thought was that he didn't see what the big deal was; but then, he wasn't into guys. Finn's next thought was that this guy looked nothing like Finn; that he was shorter than Kurt, where Finn towered over him. But maybe Kurt didn't have a "type;" Kurt had been into Sam for a little while, and Finn found both Rachel and Quinn hot for completely different reasons, after all.

Kurt started shaking slightly as Blaine was a few seconds away from passing them. "Do something! Anything," Rachel hissed. "Kurt!"

"Or…" From behind, Puck gripped the back of Kurt's shoulder and shoved him hard into Blaine just as he was walking by, and Kurt collided into the other boy with an audible smash. Blaine yelped and both fumbled, gripping onto each other to remain standing as their school bags hit the ground. "Oops. Sorry," Puck added, sounding anything but.

Finn could also see Kurt mouthing silent apologies as he scrambled to pick up Blaine's bag, handing it to him. "It's okay, thank you, I'm alright, are you alright?" Blaine said through the commotion.

Kurt picked up his own bag, standing up straight and running a hand through his hair, smiling nervously and extended a shaking hand. Finn could see Blaine scrunch his forehead curiously, like he recognized Kurt, and shook his hand wearily. "Have we…do I know you?"

The ecstatic smile Kurt gave in response to that was nearly as wide as his face. Kurt swallowed and nodded.

"How-? I'm sorry, I don't know your name. I'm Blaine," he said, still clearly puzzled.

Kurt mouthed breathily, "_I'm Kurt_" but his face fell when no sound escaped his lips.

"Sorry, I, umm, I didn't catch that?" Blaine removed his hand to adjust his briefcase strap.

"His name is Kurt," Rachel stepped forward, hand extended assertively. "Kurt Hummel. Hi, I'm Rachel Berry. You probably recognize him, and probably me, and maybe them, from New Directions? From McKinley High?"

Blaine paused a second before taking his eyes off Kurt before taking Rachel's hand, and looking around at the only three non-uniformed students in the hallway. "Oh, oh of course. I just…yeah, that's where I've seen you before." Blaine breathed out and smiled as he took Finn and Puck's hand too, his composure fully restored. "You guys were quite the competition at Sectionals; but just know, the Warblers have really stepped up our game to make sure we don't tie again at Regionals." He winked at Rachel, whose smile instantly became disingenuous. "So, what brings you to Dalton? Not spying, are you?"

"No, never," Puck piped up immediately.

"Nah, we're just dropping off my brother Kurt here. It's his first day, and we wanted to make sure he started off on the right foot," Finn clapped a hand down on Kurt, who shifted uncomfortably underneath it.

"Oh, new transfer, huh?" Blaine smiled back at Kurt, but became unnerved when Kurt didn't say anything in response. "Um, really, are you okay?"

Kurt's mouth opened and shut several times, but quickly he became frustrated and started breathing heavily.

"He's on mute," Finn broke the awkward silence, only to receive an awkward look from Blaine.

"He has _mutism_," Rachel corrected with a fake laugh, "He was having trouble at our school; they weren't particularly accommodating, but he was lucky enough to land a scholarship to Dalton. I know it's a bit awkward, being the middle of the semester and _competition season_, but it really was the best thing for him. We're not bitter about him abandoning New Directions like this at all…"

"Wait, so he was in your glee club? How?" Blaine asked Rachel.

Puck jumped to anger, "Dude, he's not deaf or retarded…"

The look Kurt shot Puck at the word _retarded_ could burn a hole through concrete. Puck corrected himself, "Sorry, what I meant was, he can understand what you're saying. He's normal except for the talking thing."

"My sincere apologies," Blaine held both his hands up defensively. "I didn't mean to imply anything offensive. What I was getting at was that show choir is mainly about…singing…so…"

"Oh, that, umm," Rachel, in her haste to fabricate a backstory, clearly hadn't considered this, "Well, glee club's not only about singing; it's about inclusion, acceptance," Rachel tried to channel her best Mr. Schue, biting down her disagreement. "Kurt was a part of New Directions because he liked being in the club. As you saw at Sectionals, he can participate as back-up while lip-synching and…_once in a while_…he has interesting suggestions for performances."

"Hey!" Something occurred to Finn. "Maybe Kurt could join the Warblers? Do like the same thing, the back-up thing?" Rachel rolled her eyes at his cluelessness.

Blaine paused a moment before he nodded; he had been trying to study Kurt out of the corner of his eye while Rachel and Finn had been talking. "I'd have to put it before the Warbler council, but I'm sure it'll be alright. I certainly know what it feels like to be a new student here; I recently transferred myself, last year. I imagine it would be that much more difficult with your… condition. New kids have got to stick together, right?" He gently nudged Kurt's arm, and Kurt looked down, shy grin evident. Kurt nodded, mouthing '_thank you.'_

"Is that your schedule there? 'Advanced French.' Wow, that's quite impressive; Mr. Daniels is by no means an easy teacher. But I'm sure you wouldn't be taking it if you couldn't handle it; you can't get a scholarship based on your looks, though _you_ c-" Blaine immediately reigned in his tone. "We've got a few minutes before the bell rings; would you like me to show you where your class is? The choir room is on the way," Kurt nodded enthusiastically. Then he turned to Finn, giving him a hug.

"Take care of yourself," Finn said. Then to Blaine, "You'll look out for him, right? He's had kind of a rough time, and it sucks that none of us will be here to watch his back."

"Of course," Blaine replied assuredly. "We should get going."

Kurt nodded graciously at Rachel, at Puck, and then adjusted his blazer as he and Blaine hurried off down the corridor.

Finn remarked, "He seemed nice. Like, really nice."

"He's very charming," Rachel agreed. "Not everyone would take on the burden of showing the new student around."

Puck scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Are you both stupid? Dude's got gaydar and Hummel puts it out at maximum amplitude. The guy's hoping Hummel puts out, too."

* * *

><p>Kurt had immensely enjoyed the first day at his new school, and this was apart from the euphoria he had experience upon meeting Blaine again.<p>

Though that had been sizeably intense, from Kurt's end at least; it was marred only by the disappointment that Blaine had not recognized him from their drunken December duet. When Blaine had fist caught Kurt's eye, he could have sworn he'd seen a flash of familiarity from Blaine, but it had dissipated once Blaine seemed to easily recognize his former New Directions' teammates. Still, though; on their way to class, Blaine kept looking at him. Like, _looking_ looking, though Kurt couldn't even explain to himself what _that_ qualifier meant.

The classes at Dalton were undoubtedly designed to challenge, rather than simply usher teens through a course requirement. This had been something Kurt had always longed for at McKinley, as delving into homework was one of his methods of distraction from the cretins who had made his life hell.

However, Kurt didn't get the feeling that this was going to be a problem here. No-one had been as wonderfully friendly as Blaine. But a handful of his new peers had read the little calligraphied card he'd made, saying '_I'm apologize; I'm mute and unable to speak,_' and had been sympathetic right away, offering their notes from the beginning of the semester and escorting him to his next class. Kurt had never experienced this unassuming kindness from strangers, and he was basking in it.

The only downside to his day was at lunchtime (which had been astoundingly free of food fights) when he'd considered that if he wasn't successful with Blaine, in a month he'd be returning to McKinley. But he'd have to cross that bridge when he came to it. The whole reason he'd made the crazy deal with Coach Sylvester to begin with was because he just needed a break, to survive. He couldn't waste time dwelling on whether it would be doubly hard to go back to that hellhole now that he'd experienced the freedom of Dalton.

He'd looked for Blaine in the cafeteria while sitting with a few of his fellow French classmates, but he didn't spot him until the end of lunch, when Blaine informed him that he'd spoken to the council and they'd agreed to let him join. "David's a terrible secretary, anyway. Would you mind taking minutes?" Kurt had of course said '_Yes._' Whatever it took to spend more time with Blaine.

After school, Kurt walked confidently through the hallways towards the choir room. He marveled at the artistry that went into the design of the school; it felt vast, polished and rich. As he rounded a corner, an older student bumped into him, accidentally, but he'd immediately apologized for it and _wasn't that interesting. _Kurt could get used to this.

The large wooden doors were open to the cozy room Blaine had shown him that morning, and Kurt assumed that most of the Warblers had assembled as there was no place to sit. Blaine waved kindly at Kurt and was his heart ever going to stop skipping every time he caught sight of Blaine? The lead soloist was sitting primly on the couch beside a large wooden desk, where three guys who Kurt assumed to be 'The Council' were seated. The council member furthest to the left spoke directly to him when he slipped into the room.

"Hello, you must be Kurt. Welcome to the Warblers!" The group of boys clapped. "I'm David, this is Wes and this is Thad. Junior Warbler Blaine informed us of your situation, and we'd be more than happy to extend a hand to a new student. Especially one who's experienced in show choir."

"Because he's from our competition, and he's shown up weeks before Regionals!" one of the boys standing near the window blurted out, and all the Warblers started talking furiously. Kurt was slightly taken aback; this had been the closest thing to a confrontation he'd witnessed all day.

"Come on now, Kurt is more than welcome to join the Warblers" Blaine literally jumped to Kurt's defense, and Kurt's chest swelled. "People don't jump through all the hoops it takes to transfer schools just to rig silly show choir competitions or spy on their rivals."

Jesse St. James immediately came to Kurt's mind, but Kurt snapped out of that thought as a loud, wooden banging permeated the ruckus.

"Let the Warblers come to order!" Wes banged a wooden gavel furiously on the large desk. "The Warblers are a Dalton club, and Dalton is nothing if not a friendly, trusting school. I give no credence to the notion that Kurt's intentions to join the Warblers are anything less than honourable, and no one else here should either." He pointed the gavel warningly around the room. He then cleared his throat. "Kurt, as our new secretary, we bequeath upon you the vaunted Dalton Warbler notepad."

Wes picked up a pen and notepad in a black leather binding and passed it through the group until the boy sitting in front of Kurt handed it to him. Kurt took it gingerly, fingering the embroidered "D." He smiled and looked around for a place to sit. A blonde boy sitting beside the head table stood and motioned him to take his place. Kurt wordlessly signaled his appreciation, took a seat, and opened the notepad and began jotting down notes as the discussion continued.

As lead soloist, Blaine's attention was understandably focused on discussing strategies for Regionals, and then later on choreographing the performance during practise. Kurt did the best he could to take helpful, detailed notes, but too many times he caught himself simply gazing at Blaine, ignoring what was being said or who was saying it if it wasn't the, suddenly very present, object of his affection.

Kurt couldn't help but notice the striking differences between the composed but charismatic Blaine that was helping some of the struggling members with their footwork, and the drunken, love-obsessed fool he'd kissed beneath the grand staircase those few months back. But anytime Blaine noticed Kurt noticing him, Kurt would immediately avert his eyes, focusing on writing on the notepad before him, willing himself not to blush.

The game of eye-tag continued on until the end of the practise, at which point the Warblers started filing out of the room. Kurt started to pack up, and felt his pulse begin to race as Blaine strode over to him.

"Hey, Kurt," Blaine took a deep breath. "So, what did you think of practise today?"

Kurt bit his lip and hesitated before giving a tiny but enthusiastic thumbs up.

"Oh, right, sorry, I forgot. I should be more sensitive to your…yeah." Blaine fumbled, scratching his head and Kurt felt his face fall. "Is there any chance I can grab that notepad from you? Wes is a bit protective of it; it'll be a little while before he lets you hold onto it outside of rehearsal. Don't take it personally."

Kurt gave it over, finger lightly grazing Blaine's in the exchange. There was no way he was the only one who felt that spark jolt through his body during that nanosecond of contact.

Blaine grinned sheepishly. But then he skimmed the contents of Kurt's notes, frowning slightly. He closed the leather cover of the notebook. "I gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow?"

Kurt was confused; _tomorrow?_ _What about dinner? What about showing me to my dorm room? What about that ending in a sweet embrace, soon followed by pronouncements of love and earth-shattering kisses?_

Blaine must have registered his confusion when he added, "Oh, I don't have a dorm here; I live about half-an-hour off campus, it makes going here affordable for my parents. But don't worry, I saw you at lunch today with Jason and Andre. You'll make other friends quickly here; you don't need to rely on me." Blaine made a strange face at his own statement, a face Kurt couldn't read.

"Anyways. Tomorrow," Blaine winked as he walked backwards and exited the room.

_Well,_ Kurt thought, _that was anticlimactic._

* * *

><p>The next day two days during practise, during which Kurt had gained an ever-increasing appreciation for Blaine's talent as a performer, it had been more of the same. More eye-catching, more slightly-more-than-friends-friendliness, more of what Kurt was willing to bet his life on was honest-to-god <em>interest<em> on Blaine's part. Yet, at the end of both rehearsals, when Blaine would slink over to talk to Kurt, he would read the notepad, filled with complimentary observations about Blaine's performance that day. Blaine would then suddenly become reluctant; coy, yet impenetrably formal. He was distant, almost as if he was daring Kurt to bridge the gap.

Which did not help Kurt in the slightest since he was himself a shy flirt. Without his voice, Kurt was unable compensate for his introverted body language with his keen observations or dry sarcastic wit. Kurt had never done this before with someone who'd so obviously reciprocated his feelings, to some degree at the very least, but he was downright certain he'd be a hundred times more successful if he could just. Say. Something.

Kurt did note, however, that on both days Blaine had handed him the notepad from _his own_ bag rather than receiving it from the supposedly overprotective Wes. That was something, at least.

But it wasn't enough; this was progressing nowhere. And it was crucial for both Kurt and his friends back at McKinley (as Rachel would remind him via text every hour or so) that this advance far beyond flirty smiles and stolen glances, and that it do so much more quickly. The pressure was decidedly on.

Kurt was going to have to change tactics.

* * *

><p>"Hey, is everything okay?"<p>

Kurt glanced up from his magazine, polite disinterest plastered on his face. _Don't think about his eyes, don't stare at his jaw, don't fall in love with that smile and…oh god…don't smile back if you do. You can do this._ Kurt raised an eyebrow, questioningly.

"You just seemed, I don't know, somewhere else today. You just read _Vogue_ the entire practise."

Kurt gave a non-committal shrug. Blaine was visibly thrown off.

"I don't want you to take this the wrong way, Kurt. But if you're not happy being here, then no-one's forcing you to-" but Blaine was cut off as Kurt had stuffed the sheet of paper he'd ripped out of the notepad into his hands. Blaine glanced down, quietly reading the neat cursive.

'_Tips for improving Warbler's chances at Regionals;_

_1. More emphasis on the unique sound of an all-boys a cappella group; make it evident who's making what back-up sound, try a mash-up, etc. _

_2. Less Top 40__; the audience may eat up the dreamy a cappella renditions of songs they kind of know the chorus to from bopping along with the radio during their dreary morning commute. But both they and the judges will have a much greater appreciation when hearing Warblerized interpretations of classic hits. Dig into The Beatles, U2, etc._

_3. Much, much MUCH more movement (or none at all)__; both New Directions and Aural Intensity embrace the 'show' in 'Show Choir,' and while there is something charming __in the moment__ about the in-sync back and forth shuffling and snapping that make up the Warbler's 'dance routine,' it's hardly memorable when it comes to judging the performance as a whole; either go for deeply sentimental or bold and showy. Light and upbeat is fun, but forgettable._

_4. Less Blaine_;_ you are undeniably breathtaking when you sing, but this is a high school show choir competition, not American Idol. The judges will be much more impressed with a set-list that highlights the group's many talents rather than one built around a single performer. '_

Blaine glanced back up at Kurt, expression akin to having been slapped.

Kurt maintained an air of detachment, buton the inside he was screaming. He'd blown this, read it wrong; Blaine would be personally insulted, or offended on behalf of the group. Blaine would ignore him now, possibly after asking him to leave, that he had no right, and Kurt and everyone else at McKinley would be screwed…

But then Blaine chuckled, "Huh. I guess you _have_ been paying attention." Blaine crooked a finger and leaned in towards him, sending shivers down Kurt's spine as his breathy whispers tickled his ear, "I've had a couple of these exact same ideas...especially the fourth one; but try telling it to the Council. They're very rigid about our style; even as lead singer, I can't persuade them to mix it up a bit. I'm _so happy_ you see it too."

Kurt exhaled slowly, greatly relieved. His instincts had been dead on. Blaine wasn't interested in a kid with a crush, someone who followed him around like a puppy, agreeing with everything simply to seem agreeable. Blaine was looking for an equal, a kindred spirit, someone who was on the same wavelength and who wasn't afraid to speak his mind.

With Blaine so close to him but without touching him, his heart pounding in his ears, Kurt had nearly forgotten the next part of the plan. He reached forward, around to the bottom of the list in Blaine's hand and tapped it gently. He moaned internally as Blaine pulled away from him to read it, but satisfaction replaced the loss upon seeing Blaine's smirk.

"Yeah, um, sure. Give me your phone and I'll put it in myself."

Kurt's pulled his phone from his pocket faster than a cop could pull a gun from his holster, and Blaine took it, typing quickly. He angled the phone up high, scrunched his nose and his forehead while maintaining the goofiest grin, and snapped a picture. He flicked his wrist forward, handing the phone back to Kurt, "One phone number, with a side of dorky smile."

Kurt rocked back and forth on his feet as he sent a text to the newly inputted number; Blaine grabbed for his own phone when the inside pocket in his blazer vibrated shortly thereafter. He chuckled lightly at the two messages.

'_Thank you for your patience and kindness with my condition, but I think it's time I introduced myself properly. Please forgive me for resorting to text message to communicate, but this is the best I can manage.' _

'_Hi. I'm Kurt.'_

"Hi Kurt, I'm Blaine. Lovely to meet you, such an honour, the pleasure's all mine," he responded amusedly, taking Kurt's hand and shaking it mockingly. He then pulled back, avoiding Kurt's gaze, "Would you, uh, like to go…um, grab a coffee, Kurt?"

Kurt felt his throat muscles tighten in an affirmative squeak.

But as no sound came out, Kurt reached down to his phone. Thrilled at having broken the sound-barrier (so to speak), he fired-off a heartfelt reply.

'_I would *love* to.'_


	6. There Is One Way To Ask Him

**A/N: **Hey, thank you to everyone who's read this far, commented and put this on their alert/favourite lists! 3 I just wanted you guys to know that I *don't* write this fast; I don't write a chapter a day. That would be insane; I'm a busy busy person. The first six chapters were probably written in a month's time. I'm a bit ahead of this now, so, like I said in the first chapter (though I assume I have your attention now :P ), if you want to read ahead, please go to my livejournal comm (link at my profile) and you can follow the story there. I'll be updating there before I update here. Just a heads up! Still hope you're enjoying yourselves.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6 – There Is One Way To Ask Him<strong>

Kurt had a problem.

Well, Kurt had an ocean of problems, but the one that occupied the majority of his waking thoughts was his perpetual state of uncertainty about what exactly his relationship with Blaine was. He wasn't even comfortable labeling his daily Lima Bean outings with Blaine as "coffee dates," though he was almost positive it was more than just hanging out.

The previous week, the first time Blaine had asked him along for coffee, Kurt had dropped the detached façade instantly and they had both dived head-first into Kurt's critiques of the Warblers. Blaine had been truly ecstatic that he could speak to someone freely about it for once. At first, the rhythm of the conversation had been stunted. Blaine would first speak for a short while, and then wait as Kurt typed out a response before he could read it and continue further. After about an hour or so, as it became particularly heated over possible song selection, Kurt had mastered the ability to multitask; listening as he typed, and typing as quickly as he would speak if he could. After about two hours, as Blaine learned to pick up on Kurt's facial expressions and body language, there was little noticeable difference between the flow of their conversation and any one of the dozen occurring around them at neighbouring tables.

As the afternoon had worn into the evening, the subject had drifted from the Warblers specifically to show choir in general, and inevitably onto the New Directions, which lead to Blaine asking about the reason behind Kurt's transfer. Kurt had known this was coming, but he was hesitant to let on just how difficult his life had been at McKinley. Blaine was undoubtedly one of the most popular kids at Dalton, his sexuality being a non-issue; Kurt wasn't sure Blaine could relate to his struggles when his sexuality had meant _everything_ at his old school.

But Blaine had been friendly and understanding about his inability to speak, so Kurt gave it a shot. '_I was having a rough time; the teachers, between interfering in each other's marriages and getting high under the bleachers, were fairly oblivious to student conflict as a whole.'_

"Were the other kids teasing you because of your condition?" Blaine had asked, concerned.

Kurt didn't want to lie; '_Most of the bullying was over me being gay, actually.'_ It was technically, true (if a bit of a deflection). Some of the torture had come from being in glee club, though Kurt knew that a large fraction of the bullying of the glee club stemmed specifically from Kurt's sexuality.

"I know what you mean," Blaine had sighed "I know _exactly _what you mean, Kurt."

Kurt tilted his head in wonder; both in surprise at Blaine's empathetic tone, and relief that they could skip over the declarations of each other's sexuality and dive straight into the nitty gritty.

"Yeah, you're looking at me like…I mean, I get that I put out this huge 'Big Man On Campus' vibe at Dalton, mostly because being in the Warblers grants me high social standing. But at my old school, being out, being proud of who I am…it was most definitely _not_ cool."

Kurt quirked an eyebrow and nodded sympathetically as he typed_ 'Teenagers are such lemmings. One outward display of confidence not directed at sports or popularity threatens their hierarchy and brands you an outcast. Being the only out gay kid at my school…was frowned upon.'_

"Tell me about it," Blaine had sunk back into his chair.

'_The only way to survive is to know that you are superior to it and all of them.'_

"It's hard to feel above it all when they're kicking the crap out of you, though."

Kurt's eyes widened with surprise, '_They got physical with you?'_

"Uh, yeah, a couple of times. The last time was…pretty extreme, and the faculty did basically nothing about it. I was, and still am, very grateful that my parents made me transfer to Dalton, but when I think about it, I'm angry that those jackasses won. That they beat me,"

Blaine had quickly backpedalled upon seeing Kurt sulk at his words. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to imply that you're a failure for transferring; I just meant that sometimes…I…it's not wrong to want to get out of a tough situation that's completely beyond your control."

Kurt hesitated before he'd responded, '_Don't worry, I know what you meant. My last altercation with another student was also "pretty extreme."' _

Blaine had pressed lightly for more information, but Kurt deflected and changed the subject to the superior quality of education at Dalton.

The mood had lightened considerably after that. Blaine had driven Kurt back to Dalton before he drove himself home for the weekend (the conversation decidedly one sided as Kurt had refused to text Blaine while he was driving). But as it turned out, the strangest part of their interaction did have its benefits; even though Kurt couldn't stare into Blaine's eyes, hear his voice, see him smile, they could still communicate via text and it was if their conversation had never really ended. There were just sometimes long pauses between exchanges due to annoying habits like eating and sleeping.

Kurt had marvelled at this development; when he'd been fantasizing about Blaine all those months, he'd been fantasizing about watching him perform, about holding his hand as they walked down the street, about kissing him again (and possibly going further than that).

Kurt's daydreams hadn't revolved around actually talking, getting along. As two out, gay teens, Kurt had considered that they'd have some things in common; he'd never imagined he'd find someone he related to so easily, and who in turn seemed to get him so completely. During the next week of school and Warbler's rehearsals and afternoon coffee runs, Kurt had discovered that he didn't just have a crush on Blaine; his feelings for him were shifting, morphing into truly caring about Blaine because they clearly had a real, intense connection.

But what that connection was, Kurt couldn't say. Kurt was sure friends didn't look at friends the way Blaine looked at Kurt; his expression fluctuating between impressed and entranced. Kurt had spent enough time studying him interact with the other Warblers during practise to know that the smirks, the wide eyes, the way that Blaine looked completely contented while resting his chin in his palm…those were reserved for Kurt alone.

But at the same time, Kurt was sure that people who were dating held hands, kissed, acknowledged their feelings…and went on actual dates. _Date _dates. Their only extracurricular interaction involved caffeinated beverages in a public establishment during the day, during which none of those more intimate gestures could have even been exchanged without fear of disgusted onlookers, and it left Kurt frustratingly unsure of where they stood.

Was Kurt closer to kissing Blaine than he had been a week ago? Probably. Maybe. He thought there was a possibility. Kurt knew how he felt, he was positive Blaine knew too; he just needed Blaine to show he reciprocated; preferably with a kiss, restoring his voice. But since, whatever their relationship was, it had developed so deeply so quickly, Kurt felt the need to treat it delicately, like one wrong move could throw the whole thing off course.

That he had three of his former teammates breathing down his neck via text, checking for relationship status updates and sending romantic 'tips' multiple times per day, didn't ease any of the pressure. Kurt was running out of creative ways to phrase:

'_I DON'T KNOW if we're dating yet, Finn. Are you 'dating' Quinn?' _

or_ 'If he kisses me, Rachel, I will immediately call and serenade you with an a cappella version of 'We Are The Champions'' _

or _'Puck, stop linking me porn!' _

Friday morning during French class, Kurt had gotten up the courage to send, '_After practise, do you want to go see a movie?_'

The twenty minutes it had taken for a reply had been nail-biting agony, but almost immediately after the bell had rung, Kurt had received a text from Blaine, '_Sorry, Mr. Craig confiscated my phone. Guess I went over the limit of how many times my Katy Perry could interrupt his lecture this week. I really need to learn to use vibrator.'_

'_*VIBRATE. Stupid auto-correct.'_

'_Anyway, a movie sounds great.'_

The movie opening that weekend, _I Am Number Four_, was anything but great. Blaine had almost been asked to leave by the usher for breaking into hysterics at all the biting criticisms and sarcastic comments Kurt was sending him over the terrible plotting and wooden acting. But to Kurt's delight, many of these laughing spasms included actual physical contact like shoulder nudging, knee grabbing and vindictive tickling from Blaine.

So as Kurt and Blaine exited the theatre to walk down Main Street, Blaine still joyfully reflecting on about how awful the film was, Kurt pondered his problem.

"…It was like they took the plots from _Harry Potter_ and _Superman_ and put them in a blender, I mean, come on! How unoriginal…"

Kurt wanted, needed Blaine, to kiss him, preferably tonight. Preferably soon. But maybe he could speed up the process if he made the first move. Both their hands were dangling by their sides as they walked, inches from each other, and Kurt couldn't look away.

"Don't get me wrong, Alex Pettyfer is someone I don't mind staring at for 90 minutes straight…"

Even though both their hands were gloved to ward off the crisp February cold, Kurt reasoned it wouldn't take much to just slip his digits through Blaine's. Should he do it lightly, and wait for Blaine to squeeze their hands closed? Or, oh god, let go, if Blaine didn't want to?

"And the Blonde girl who played his girlfriend is such a _classic_ beauty; the whole time I was thinking she'd look fabulous in designer clothes from the 40s or the 60s…"

Should he just go for it, grip tightly and start swinging? There was really no subtle way of pulling this off; it wasn't like Blaine wasn't going to notice. But hand holding…it was sacred to Kurt; if this was going to be his first time holding hands with a boy, he wanted to do this right. He'd gathered up the courage, started to reach out…

And then Kurt sneezed. His hands flew up instinctually to cover his mouth, but stopped just short of touching his face, as to prevent his designer gloves from being ruined. Great, he could feel a drop of snot just under his nose and wasn't that just the most attractive thing ever. As Blaine stopped to look at him, Kurt kept his hands poised in front his face.

"Need a tissue?" Blaine asked, clearly amused at Kurt's shyness. Kurt nodded desperately behind his hands. "I think I've got a couple clean ones in my coat, hang on-_oh_."

Blaine paused after he'd slipped his hand into the inner pocket, staring down at the item he'd pulled out, blinking at it a few times. "Umm, sorry, I forgot that was in there-, that's not-, here" Blaine stuffed the item back in his jacket only to pull out a handful of clean tissues.

Kurt angled his left hand sideways and gingerly picked a tissue from Blaine with his right, wiping away the snot, and blowing into the tissue for good measure, throwing it into the nearest garbage can. A simple set of tasks to an outside observer, Kurt felt as if he'd just completed a series of complex acrobatics, considering how he had been absolutely shocked to his core.

Blaine still had Kurt's scarf. Blaine still had the Alexander McQueen scarf that Kurt had tied around his wrist back in December, when they'd kissed. Blaine had (hopefully) washed Kurt's scarf and folded it into a tiny, crisp little square. Blaine had kept Kurt's folded scarf in the inside breast pocket of his winter coat, on the left side, _against his heart_.

Kurt felt as if he could die.

"Yeah, it's probably a bit too cold outside to go for a stroll. Don't want you to catch a cold. Besides, it's nearly 10, and I have to drive you back to Dalton since my curfew's at 11."

_He kept it close to his heart!_ A wave of pride and confidence took him over, and he eagerly linked his arm with Blaine's, pivoting them in the direction of Blaine's car. Blaine chuckled lightly at the surprise, squeezing back and joining Kurt's pace as they strode along.

"Feeling a lot better now, are we?" Kurt nodded enthusiastically. _You have no idea._ As much as he didn't want the date to be over (he was positive it was a date, now), he was keen to get to the end.

When, after Blaine dropped him off at Dalton, saying goodnight, he would grab his hand gently, lean in slowly, press his hand along Kurt's cheek, and the fireworks from a few months ago would reignite as Blaine pressed his lips to Kurt's. And then he'd know it was Kurt, would remember the spark, and Kurt would have his voice again and he could tell Blaine how much he loved him. And everything would be happily ever after.

Twenty minutes later, Kurt was standing on the front steps of Dalton, grinning from ear to ear, light in his eyes, staring down at Blaine.

"I had _such_ a good time tonight, Kurt." Blaine confessed.

Kurt's breathing was shallow, and he curtsied slightly, mouthing "_Me too."_

When Blaine's left hand reached out and gripped Kurt's right, Kurt's brain melted a little as the heat inside him rose to dizzying heights.

"You are amazing, and so much fun. You are a blast to hang out with; and I don't think I've ever been so open with anyone. Talked so freely, you know? I don't even notice that I've never heard your voice, and…"

Blaine's hand reached to his own chest, and he paused. Kurt watched him squeeze the fabric, clearly remembering the scarf that was resting just underneath there. Blaine's mouth opened and closed a few times. His eyes seemed to lose focus for a split second, but when his attention returned to Kurt, something was lost. He gave Kurt a soft smile.

"…and I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?" Blaine leaned back, pulling away his hand.

Kurt's heart felt as if it would shrivel in his chest. _What-? Why? What's wrong?_ he thought desperately, but the mood had evaporated.

Kurt plastered on a happy smile, swallowed, and blinked back the tears forming at the corner of his eyes. Kurt nodded gently.

Blaine awkwardly placed a hand on Kurt's shoulder, "See you later," and headed back to his car.

Kurt stood frozen on the doorstep, not understanding what just happened. How their wonderful night had fizzled so quickly. He stared up at the stars, not noticing the bitter wind that blew through the courtyard.

Blaine had his scarf. That kiss had meant something to Blaine too, hadn't it? It had to! Why would he keep it otherwise? Okay, so if Kurt had awoken owning a McQueen scarf of unknown origin, he'd probably jump for joy and keep it too; but even though Blaine knew enough about fashion, he didn't really care all that much about it. So it had to be sentimental. Even if Blaine didn't remember that _Kurt _was the one he kissed…

And there it was.

Kurt turned around and started rapping his head loudly against the ornate wooden door.

Blaine may have feelings for Kurt, but he also still felt something for the boy he'd kissed months ago. Who was also Kurt, but Blaine didn't know that. For some reason, Blaine was holding back with present-Kurt because he was still mooning over past-Kurt.

Kurt was cock-blocking_ himself._

He couldn't just come clean; questions of intentions and weirdness aside, if Blaine remembered speaking to him, singing with him, then how was he going to explain that he was now mute? He hadn't tried, but he was certain Sue's contract wouldn't allow for it.

He banged his head with more force than he intended.

* * *

><p>"Welcome Kurt! Welcome Blaine! Welcome to the first official Rachel Berry House Party. Please allow me to show you down to the basement. Let me take your jackets!"<p>

"Thanks Rachel," Blaine removed his, grabbing Kurt's and handed both of them to Rachel, who placed them on the nearest sofa. "I was so appreciative when Kurt said you'd told him it was okay for me to come along too. Even though our show choirs are rivals, I think it's important that our two teams maintain a friendly rela-"

"'sup buddy?" Puck swooped in, shoving a red beer cup into his hand. "This right here's a party and you're a little behind on the bus to crunk-town. So drink up!"

Blaine laughed nervously, but looked around to see the overly chipper smiles of Rachel, Finn and Puck staring back at him, giving him enthusiastic thumbs up and signalling him to drink. His "Umm…" couldn't really be heard over the loud music blasting and the noise of several other members of New Direction falling over themselves at the other end of the room. He gave a glance back to Kurt, whose anxious expression was instantly replaced by silent encouragement.

Blaine shrugged, chugged, whooped, and ran off to grab more. Kurt's face immediately fell.

Finn stepped over to Kurt, "You sure this is a good idea, man? Getting him drunk like this? I mean, they had a whole lecture about it in school this week. Alcohol awareness and all. I hadn't really thought of it, but I guess having sex with a girl when she's wasted is _kinda_ not cool."

Kurt hid his face in his hands.

Rachel piped up. "It's deplorable, Finn. It goes against everything I stand for, and when I'm a famous Tony Award-winning Broadway star, if any one of you ever mention to any tabloids that I was in on something like this, I will hunt you down and end you. But we are running out of options! We are at DEFCON One! I _need_ my voice, and for me to keep it, Kurt needs to kiss Blaine. And according to Kurt, for reasons that have not been made entirely clear to me, Kurt kissing Blaine requires that Blaine is completely smashed."

Kurt's nails were digging into the flesh on his forehead. He couldn't have hated himself more than he did at this moment.

"Whatevs. Boy's gotta do what a boy's gotta do," Puck tried to defend Kurt, and stared longingly at Lauren Zizes, who currently had a drunken Sam in an armlock face-down on the couch. "Sometimes you need to get them drunk to get their guard down, let them realize they _want_ you to rock their world"

"Because that worked so well when you tried it with Quinn," Finn shouted, furious.

"You wanna go, Hudson?" Puck raised his fist and darted forward, but Rachel jumped between them, hands braced to prevent them from fighting.

"Guys? Focus! All you two have been doing for the past two weeks is fight, and we're in this together. We have a mission, and that mission is to get those two boys lips' smacking." She walked over to Kurt, ripping his hands off his face, snapping her fingers at him, demanding he pull himself out of his self pity. "Kurt, you love him, right?"

Kurt nodded, but he couldn't look Rachel in the eye. "And you're positive he loves you back, he's just really shy?"

That really wasn't the truth, but it was what he'd told the three of them the previous night over Facebook when he'd received an invite to this party. He'd wrestled with the decision for two straight hours, but he'd eventually given in. He'd said that Blaine was notoriously inhibition free when he was inebriated, and that whatever was preventing their kiss could be overcome if Blaine was around both him and alcohol.

It was wrong; Kurt had spent all day hating how wrong it was, but he underneath it all he was incredibly anticipatory to re-explore their post sectionals make-out session. Maybe Blaine would recognize the feel of Kurt's lips on his, and the whole mystery-dream guy issue would just resolve itself. He was also looking forward to getting Rachel, Finn and Puck out of the driver's seat of his relationship with Blaine.

Kurt nodded at Rachel's question. Rachel patted his shoulder reassuringly, "Well if you love each other, you're just helping along the inevitable, and that's not _so bad_. Think of yourself as Mrs. Lovett."

Rachel smiled. Kurt's jaw dropped.

"Now, co-conspirators, I know this is a party but I think it wise that we keep the intoxication at a minimum."

"I'm a designated driver," Finn added.

"I've pretty much always got a bit of a buzz on," Puck shrugged and downed his beer.

"Fine!" Rachel huffed. "Kurt, you should have a drink or two, but you're going to need your wits about you, so don't go overboard. Now go to your man, and sweep him off his feet!"

Kurt couldn't get away fast enough. "Meanwhile, I have duties to attend to as the hostess. And I should at least participate in the drinking a little bit, even if it is just for show."

An hour later, Rachel was slurring into the microphone at the top of her lungs, "Who wants to play SPIN THE BOTTLE!"

Most of the kids in the circle were completely wasted, with the exception of Finn and Kurt. The bottle was spun and spun, Mike kissing Tina, Tina kissing Artie, Artie kissing Rachel, Rachel kissing Sam, Sam kissing Finn, Finn kissing Mercedes, Mercedes kissing Mike…

Kurt glanced back at the giggling mess that was the boy he loved. Between beer pong and kings, Kurt had watched Blaine down no fewer than six screwdrivers and three shots of tequila, and the handsy, stuttering fool he'd first met was back with a vengeance.

Blaine had sang at him, he'd grabbed him and danced with him, grinding against Kurt's leg (much to Kurt's horror as Puck looked on, gesturing in ways that were sure to scar him).

But so far, it seemed that party-Blaine was playful rather than romantic, and even though there was one or two moments when Kurt thought Blaine might have tried to kiss him, it hadn't happened yet. So as unappealing as it had been to see Blaine kiss Tina and Lauren, he figured if they both stayed in the circle long enough, one was bound to land on the other.

After a particularly out-of-it Quinn finished kissing Rachel, Rachel pulled back, flopping on her ass, and spun the bottle forcefully. They all screamed with delight as the bottle neck slowed to point at Blaine. Kurt internally squealed, because after Rachel and Blaine kissed, it would be Blaine's turn to spin.

Rachel grabbed Blaine's shirt and pulled him forward, giggling "Let's do this, Blaine Warbler" and Kurt's heart froze momentarily as he watched their lips smack, Blaine biting down on Rachel's lower lip and…

"Hmm, that's enough of that! Get off me," Rachel pushed Blaine away, and he could hardly keep his balance, so he fell backwards onto the floor, staring at the ceiling.

"Oh no you don't, Mister, it's your turn to spin!" Rachel slapped his knee.

"Spin it for me!" Blaine mumbled back.

Rachel took a half-lidded glance around the circle; no-one seemed to be paying attention anymore as, one by one, they were collapsing into drunken fits or passing out.

She rotated the bottle slightly. "Oh. Look. You landed on Kurt."

Kurt clasped his hands nervously, grinning.

"Oh boy, Kurt! My best friend, my best buddy, my best pal…" Blaine hiccuped as he forced himself to sit up. "Lay one on me, my gorgeous… gay… guy-friend!" He smiled dumbly, eyes closed.

Kurt swung his feet around, leaning forward on his knees. He took a page out of Rachel's book and gripped the material on Blaine's sweater, pulling him closer. He placed one hand on Blaine's shoulder to brace himself, the other on Blaine's face. He closed his eyes, sighed, and leaned forward-

"What's going on here, Honeys?" Santana called from the top of the stairs. Kurt froze mid pucker, face falling.

"Who the hell invited them?" Rachel shouted angrily.

"That's my girlfriend, yo!" Artie pointed at Brittany as the two former Cheerios hurried quickly down the stairs. "You got my text, babe! Get down here, I wanna watch you dance, girl!"

"No, no, no, they are _not_ invited, get the hell out!" Rachel snapped.

"It's a free country, short-stop!" Santana spat back.

"It's my house, you…whore!" Rachel stumbled to stand and almost fell, Santana chuckling the whole time.

Rachel lunged forward at her, grabbing Santana by the waist and tackling her to the ground, screaming. Finn and Puck ran over, trying to pull them apart, and Brittany jumped on Finn's back in an attempt to stop them.

As Kurt watched the commotion, still mid-lean, he weighed out his options and looked at Blaine.

_Screw it_.

Kurt grabbed Blaine's face and pulled him in for the kiss.

The noise of the fight beside them was completely muted. Oh god, the sparks, the electricity, the joy, it was all pulsing through him. How had Kurt gone for so many months without Blaine's lips on his, sucking his, licking his, biting his as he bit back?

Blaine moaned loudly, hands coming up to thread through Kurt's hair, gripping softly but forcefully, pulling Kurt closer into the kiss. Their tongues wrestled, and Kurt felt like he needed Blaine's mouth like he needed oxygen.

He could feel that familiar tightness in his chest, the rumblings in his throat, tingling in his whole body. As breathing became an issue, Kurt pulled back, kissing Blaine's lips lightly one more time, before he looked into Blaine's now very open eyes. For the first time in over an hour, Blaine looked completely sober. "Wow, Kurt…"

Kurt's eyes fluttered, grin as big as his face, and he oozed lust as he sighed, saying "Hi, Blaine."

Except he didn't.

Because no sound escaped his throat when he spoke. _What the-?_

Blaine yelped as Kurt dove back in for another kiss, practically shoving his tongue down to Blaine's tonsils. And it was so hot, and deep, and passionate, and wonderful, and Blaine was moaning his name with pleasure. Kurt pulled out of the kiss, "_Hi, Blaine."_

Silence.

Kurt literally pounced on Blaine, pushing him to the ground and straddling his waist. Kurt slipped his fingers roughly into his short curls and forced Blaine's head up, pulling him in for another kiss. Hungry, desperate, he pressed his whole body down, putting his everything he had into it. More sucking, more moaning, more biting from Blaine's end.

There was definite reciprocation of feelings, as Kurt could feel both himself and the body pinned under him slowly get hard. The tingling grew exponentially and the need consumed him, and after an undefined span of time, he felt Blaine's pelvis start to shallowly rut against his and-

"I think that's enough PDA for one party," Kurt could hear Santana shout as she started tugging at his back. Kurt could vaguely feel arms hook underneath his, and try as he might, he could not resist her as she pulled him, kicking wildly, off of Blaine, dragging him back a few feet.

She dropped him on the ground as he mimicked screaming "_You bitch! I hate you!" _but he might as well have been screaming in space for all the sound he actually made.

From the floor, he looked up to see Finn, Puck, Rachel, Santana and Brittany all staring down at him with varying looks of shock and amusement. Kurt huffed as he picked himself off the floor, glaring at Santana, before he glanced down to Blaine, who was moaning contentedly on the ground. "Kurt, Kurt, where'd you go?"

Kurt tried to compose himself, but he couldn't hold back the tears of disappointment, of failure, of heartbreak. He darted to the bathroom and slammed the door, sliding down and slumping on the cold tiles. His body shook, his heart a hole in his chest, as he pulled his legs into himself and dropped his head into his lap. Kurt sobbed, silently.

_He doesn't love me back._


	7. Two Gentlemen Avoid It If They Can

**Chapter 7 – Conversation; Two Gentleman Avoid It If They Can**

As Kurt rounded the corner, deftly manoeuvring through the Monday morning bustle in a sea of blue blazers, he kept his back straight and head held high. The determination in his step faltered slightly as he caught sight of one particular uniformed figure, back pressed against the wall outside the door to Kurt's French class, one knee bent and head tilted towards the ceiling.

Kurt gathered resolve and pushed on, passing by the boy who only realized his presence as he turned into the classroom, ignoring the call of his name as he took a seat at the back. When he was certain no-one was looking, he slumped forward, crossing his arms on the desk and dropping his head.

* * *

><p>At lunch time, Kurt laughed silently with Jason and Andre as another one of his French peers, Richard, did spot-on impressions of their teacher Mr. Daniels. Their amusement died down slightly as Andre acknowledged the boy standing next to Richard, staring down at Kurt. Upon hearing a greeting from the boy, who asked if he could speak to Kurt alone for a minute, Kurt refused to acknowledge his existence. When Kurt noticed that his lunch-mates' excitement had been replaced by awkward silence, he reached for his phone on the table.<p>

Because Kurt wasn't looking, he didn't see the boy's flash of relief as he started to type, nor the look of disappointment immediately after when Jason, Andre and Richard's phones' all buzzed simultaneously. As the four of them became hysterical, Kurt could only faintly hear the sound of footsteps walking away.

He swallowed thickly.

* * *

><p>Kurt sat alone at a desk between the stacks in the grand Dalton library, copying term notes from his peers underneath the soft lighting, pausing every 5 minutes or so to stare out the window. From this angle, he could almost see the sun set, splashes of orange and blue colouring the sky. He wondered how long he'd been sitting there, leaning with head in his hand, wiping back a tar or two, before the peaceful silence was interrupted by the figure in his peripheral vision, quietly taking a seat in the bench opposite, folding hands and staring intently at him.<p>

Kurt closed his books, slipped his bag over his shoulder and rose to leave.

A hand firmly gripped his wrist. "Kurt, please…"

Kurt paused, following the sight of the hand holding him, along up the arm, hesitating slightly at the base of the neck, counting the number of diagonal blue and red stripes in the tie hanging there (there were 4 and 5, respectively). Finally, Kurt gathered up the courage to raise his eye-line higher, to see Blaine staring back, begging.

His façade faltered only briefly, as Kurt let the weight of his heartbreak creep forward for a split second, before he reined it in and stared down at Blaine, attempting to convey annoyance.

"Please," Blaine repeated.

Kurt huffed, slid his bag off his shoulder and delicately sat back down, sharply pulling his wrist out of Blaine's grip. He quirked an eyebrow, _go on._

"You missed practise," Blaine offered.

Kurt merely blinked, his jaw set.

"You haven't returned any of my texts," Blaine continued.

To be fair, Kurt hadn't returned anyone's texts in two days. Nor had he returned any voice-mails, emails, Facebook messages or tweets. No one from the party had spoken with Kurt since the party, but it hadn't been for lack of trying. On top of angry, frustrated, hurt, and purely devastated, he felt utter humiliation at his friends having witnessed his failure. He could still see all their faces, staring down at him, judging him for being so wrong. So misguided. And risking all their well-being in the process. He couldn't answer their questions, and he was in no mood to try.

And he certainly had nothing to say to Blaine; he had his pride. He'd learned this lesson the hard way before; rejection, revulsion, it's all the same. Kurt would keep his head high, his guard up, his back against the wall. Never mind that his heart had been shattered; that was none of Blaine's business anymore. Kurt would have to find some other way to stay at Dalton and save his friends' voices. So between crying fits and face-down misery the past weekend, no, he hadn't returned any of Blaine's texts.

Kurt's only communication had been one of the daily emails he'd sent his father; lying that he was fine, happy, doing well at Dalton. Because if Kurt in any way conveyed to his dad that he wasn't, Sue's spell would probably kick in again, and his dad would ignore his problems completely. Kurt's bargain had cost him his relationship with his father for a month. In the state he was in, Kurt couldn't handle _that_ being shoved in his face, too.

"Kurt, what the hell is going on? What is with the silent treatment?" Blaine demanded.

Kurt tilted his head like _Really?_

Blaine jumped in quickly, "You know what I mean. You know I don't care about your mutism. Hell, I barely notice that you don't talk… except now, when you're not talking _to me_."

Kurt turned his head away and starting tapping his fingers on the desk.

"No, Kurt, that's not fair. If you're not going to text me, the least you can do for me is look at me so I can read you. You owe me that much."

Kurt refused to look away from the window.

Blaine sighed, and moved around the desk to slide along Kurt's bench, effectively trapping Kurt between him and the wall.

"Fine. Then you're going hear, in great detail, about how you're driving me insane."

Kurt bit his lip, still refusing to look back at Blaine, but he signalled that he would allow it. Even if it was killing him to be this close to Blaine, to want him so badly, and at the same time, want to evaporate. Blaine's move to block his exit wasn't really giving him a choice other than to hear him out, anyway.

"So I'm this sort of hopeless romantic guy." Blaine started to whisper, cautiously, "I have practically every gay and bisexual guy in school throwing themselves at me, but I'm not even interested in dating any of them. Because I have these elaborate fantasies and, at times, incredibly _vivid_ dreams," Kurt twitched, "of meeting that _special_ guy. My friends tell me I need to lighten up; they tease me, a lot. They tell me that I can't keep waiting around forever for Prince Charming to 'come rescue' me. That I need to realize that there are plenty of great guys who I might actually be interested in if I gave them the chance.

"So, I start going out for coffee with this one guy and, guess what? I _really _like him. I'd never felt that way about anyone before."

Kurt took a sharp, but quiet, intake of breath.

"And what do I do? I get the Warblers to serenade him with a completely inappropriate song at his workplace, because I'm that big of a lovesick fool and I perform better than I emote. And I don't do anything half-assed. I just can't help but lay it all out there, for the world to see.

"And he gets _fired._ And then he rejects me, telling me I was reading too much into our relationship; that we were only friends. And we're not anymore. And I'm devastated."

Kurt thrummed his fingers loudly on the table; Jeff, a sophomore and a Warbler, had hinted last week during practise that something big had gone down a few weeks prior, but upon seeing the way Kurt had looked at Blaine, Jeff had refused to elaborate.

_So, I was a rebound? Is that it?_

Blaine breathed out slowly, tone filling with awe, "And then, not a week later, I meet another guy. This adorable, attractive, funny, _amazing_ guy, who I swear walked fully formed out of one of my dreams; he just falls into my lap. But I'd _just_ been stung so _so_ badly. So I take my time, I take it slow, I try and get to know him better, because he's just like me, he's just gone through what I've been through, and I don't want to scare him away. I really care about him, and I don't want my stupidity with romance to screw up what we have. Because I've seen what can happen, and I can't stand the thought of it backfiring that badly again; _not with him_. But at the same time, I'm secretly thrilled that I'm not that guy who only wants what he can't have, because I'm pretty confident this guy wants me too."

Kurt was glad he'd opted to avoid Blaine's gaze, because the tears he'd been blinking back started to fall gently down his face.

"And then he kisses me, and it _blows my freaking mind."_

But Blaine deflated, "And then he ditches me at his friend's party, won't return my texts, and ignores me all day at school. …And I'm scratching my head raw trying to figure out what I've done wrong here, how I've screwed it up this time. I'm going crazy, thinking that maybe I've misinterpreted _again_, except he's the one who kissed me. I'm thinking maybe I somehow pushed him too far, because I know he's shy about sex, except he's the one who practically pounced _on m_e."

Blaine softly covered Kurt's frantic hand on the table, silencing the sound of him tapping.

"So, please, Kurt. Please tell me what I've done wrong here. How I've screwed this up. Because I can't take you being like this for another day. I want to, need to, make this right. Because I think…I think that I love you and I can't stand the thought-"

But Blaine was cut off when Kurt whipped around, grabbed him by his tie and fiercely pulled him into a hungry kiss.

Maybe it had been the alcohol; maybe it was a deal breaker in the contract. In the past two days, Kurt had allowed this to cross his mind a few times; in between thinking he was a freak, resolving that he was un-loveable, and a hundred other items of self-loathing. Maybe it had been because Blaine hadn't let himself feel everything he'd just confessed, not until Kurt had kissed him on Saturday. But Kurt heard _those _words and he had to jump; partially because Blaine's soliloquy had melted him into a pile of mush, but also because he needed to strike now, when the iron was hot.

And boy, was it hot; the grief, the anguish from the past few days lifted, and all he could feel was heat. Heat, and joy, and pure desperation as he pulled Blaine deeper and deeper into the kiss, letting himself fall too.

When he finally released them both, he felt a low rumbling in his throat as he hummed.

Except he didn't hum, because once again, his throat produced no sound.

Kurt felt as if he'd been run through with a sword. His heart broke all over again, and it was like he was being swallowed whole into floor.

Through his pain, his confusion, he managed to ponder, _Maybe I need to say it too._ So he grabbed Blaine firmly by the chin, and after brushing away his tears, he mouthed as earnestly as he could _"I love you, too,"_ before pulling Blaine back in for another heated and, if possible, more desperate kiss.

But when Kurt pulled back and was still voiceless, he felt like crawling underneath the table and simply dying. He choked out a silent sob, eyes crinkling, tears flowing freely, and he leaned back into the corner where the bench met the wall.

"Hey…" Blaine said softly, leaning forward, bracing an arm against the wall beside Kurt's head, and using the other hand to stroke his cheek, brushing away a tear. "Is that the problem? Are you a big softie like me? Did you need to hear that first?"

_He said he 'thinks' he loves me. Maybe…_Kurt wondered.

Blaine confused Kurt's devastation as an overflow of emotion, and he leaned down, on top of Kurt, staring into his eyes, reaching through to his soul.

"I. Love. You," he said with a smile, and for the first time, Blaine initiated the kiss.

But as they came out of it, panting, Kurt felt his world crash, again, when his contented whimper was inaudible.

_No, you don't._

What happened next occurred in a fraction of a second, though it felt like an eternity to Kurt. He could see that Blaine was leaning in again. The sensation of the thumb lightly grazing his cheek, only to be replaced with slight pressure as Blaine dove in, sparked a battle in Kurt's mind. He couldn't handle another kiss like that; something that felt so amazing, that consumed him so entirely…only to be slapped in the face with agonizing rejection seconds later. It was too extreme, he was starting to crack.

But Blaine's confession, his reciprocation, had reached inside Kurt and planted butterflies there. The thought of pushing him away, of trying to escape Blaine's touch when he craved it so…Kurt just couldn't. Despite all the crushing sadness, he couldn't bring himself to stop Blaine when all he wanted was to keep going.

While Kurt's brain was warring over these two opposing needs, Kurt's body took over. When their lips were within millimeters of each other, Kurt ducked his head and moved to kiss at the corner of Blaine's jaw. Blaine gasped, groaned as Kurt began to alternate between sucking and nibbling, moving down Blaine's neck as he did so. Blaine's breath hitched and he panted out "Kurt!" in a haze of both shock and arousal.

When Kurt's nursing of Blaine's neck was halted by the high collar of the Dalton uniforms, Kurt shoved Blaine off of him just long enough to loosen the tie and undo the first few buttons of his white shirt. Grabbing the collar, Kurt pulled him back in and latched his lips at the base of Blaine's neck, sucking, tasting, biting softly. Kurt's hand gripped the back of Blaine's head, tilting it to gain better access, working furiously to continue both Blaine's making of those glorious noises. And to keep Blaine's lying lips far from his own.

What Kurt's brain had initiated as a distraction, Kurt's body interpreted as incredibly arousing. Some part of Kurt registered that he should be reacting negatively to the feel of another boy, pressing down on him, blocking his escape, but that part was in the minority, and was certainly not in his pants. Which he began to feel tighten as he pressed desperately upwards, into Blaine while still keeping their bodies locked, and Blaine's fingers sliding into his hair, grasping tightly as he moaned. The hardness was mutual, Kurt could feel, and remembering Blaine's actions from the other night, he started to rut against Blaine, and it felt _incredible_.

If Kurt thought he'd felt shocks pulsing through his body while he was kissing…

"Kurt…" Blaine gasped out, but it took a few more hurried pants of Blaine's name before Kurt took notice and stopped his sucking and ceased the rolling of his hips.

"Kurt, _oh-, _Kurt, stop; stop! I'm so…confused here." Blaine managed, "You haven't responded to anything I said. You just-"

Blaine leaned in for another kiss, but Kurt instinctively pulled back. Blaine stared at him incredulously. "Maybe we shouldn't-" and started to move out of the embrace.

But Kurt didn't want that either. He hooked one arm around Blaine's back, preventing his leaving, and snaked the other hand down to Blaine's groin, cupping him through his pants.

"Kurt!" Blaine hissed, "Kurt you can't just-" but then Kurt squeezed and Blaine moaned again (and why had Kurt ever been scared of stuff like this in the first place?) and Blaine managed to add breathily; "Strike that; you can do whatever you want. Oh god, _Kurt._"

Kurt watched Blaine's face with fascination as he stroked and rubbed him through his pants; the hand that wasn't desperately clutching to the top of Kurt's back reached out to grasp the edge of the desk, knuckles turning white as he gripped, trying to bite back the sound. At first Blaine spoke short, broken murmurs of approval, whispering his name, but as Blaine got closer, words were replaced with long moans and tumbling vowels. Kurt couldn't believe the sounds coming from Blaine were because of him, because what he was doing to him, and he had never been more turned on in his life.

"Kurt, you can't, I have to-, I'm gonna-," was all the prompting Kurt needed to reseal his lips on Blaine's neck as he stroked him through his orgasm. Kurt felt Blaine's body tighten, his back arch, and the distinct sound of Blaine holding back a cry. Both Blaine's arm's came down around Kurt as he collapsed on top of him. The weight, the sounds, the feel; all of it cumulated in Kurt, and it was enough to push him over the edge, coming in his own pants seconds later, gripping Blaine just as tightly.

It wasn't until Blaine finally rested back against the bench, when he wasn't in actual physical contact with Kurt, that Kurt registered what had just happened. That he felt tears dried on his cheeks, the sweat drenching his uniform, the uncomfortable stickiness in his pants. He'd just done…that. Then as information started to flood his slowly rebooting brain, he realized that he'd just done _that_ in the school library. He quickly looked around, thankfully spotting no one, and he leaned back against the wall, blinking furiously, breathing slowing back down to a normal pace. He looked at Blaine.

Who was looking back at him, completely blissed out. His lids were heavy, his neck was wrecked with hickies. Blaine blushed as his hand lazily traced where Kurt's mouth had been, laughing. "Wow, Kurt. Um, just…wow. Way to render _me_ speechless."

Blaine's blush had nothing on Kurt's, as he felt all the blood in his body leave his crotch and flow into his face. With the redirected bloodflow came his full mental capacity. Of the many thoughts that were ringing in Kurt's brain, one sounded the loudest.

That he'd just done that with another guy, someone who he _knew_ didn't love him. And it felt so good that he didn't care.

* * *

><p>"Do you have any idea," Rachel whispered harshly, "any at all, how difficult it is to try and pour my soul into writing an original song when I'm almost certain that when I finally get a chance to sing, to shout my inner turmoil in glorious melody; that no sound is going to come out?"<p>

"Can't you, like, use that pain for the song though?" Finn countered, unsure. "Suffering for your art, and all that stuff?"

Rachel glared at Finn from the piano, "I have enough pain in my life to write fifty musicals, thank you very much, Finn Hudson. There's a difference between suffering, and knowing you're going to be practically shot in two weeks' time. Oh, god, two weeks," Rachel started pacing around the empty choir room. "We have to practise our butts off, because on the off chance he pulls through, the Warblers are still going to be insane competition at Regionals. But I can barely focus! It can't be _that hard_ to get a boy to fall in love with you, for god's sake! I did it with you like the second we met."

Before Finn could offer any clarification, Puck sauntered into the room, dribbling a basketball, still wearing his gym wear and sweaty from practise. "So, I take it Hummel still hasn't gotten back to us."

"Obviously not," Rachel spat out. "Finn won't do anything; he's your brother, and it's MY VOICE."

"I know!" Finn shouted, but ceased when all three of their pockets vibrated. Rachel whipped out her phone faster than anyone, dropping it on the ground. Bending over quickly and snapping back up so quickly that her hairband dislodged, she joined the other two and the three read, in unison, the tiny reply to every one of their texts and messages the past few days.

**From Kurt to Rachel, Finn, Puck; 7:07 pm:**

_I'm working on it._

"Huh?" Finn scratched his head.

" 'Working on it'? What does that mean?" Rachel stomped her foot.

"Get it, Hummel." Puck smirked.

Rachel and Finn shot a look to Puck, but as Rachel's vision shot further, she pointed an accusatory finger, shouting "SPIES!"

"Don't get your stockings in a knot, Tinkerbell," Santana strut into the room, Brittany in tow. "What's Hummel working on? Since he didn't leave you a voicemail, I'm guessing it's not that Blaine-guy's dick."

"God, why are you working so hard to destroy us?" Finn erupted, not being able to hold back his frustration any more. He'd been holding it in, like the rest of them, during glee practise. Because as much as they wanted to, they couldn't physically say anything when other people were in the vicinity. Finn was so angry and confused; he thought they were better than this. "Brittany, Sue tried to shoot you out of a cannon. A cannon!"

"And she can't stop making fun of your bodacious rack," Puck added, clenching his fist. "Why are you chicks siding with her? It sucks being at the bottom of the pyramid, both really and metaphysically or whatever, but you two know as well as I do that when you're this hot, you can pretty much get away with murder."

"No, you can't" Santana shot back, "Azimio was this-close to giving me a slushie facial today."

"Which I still think would have been delicious," Brittany twirled her hair.

"Regardless," Santana cut her off with a jolt of her hand. Without missing a beat, she shot out the lie she'd been waiting for weeks to unleash; "With glee club dead, Fabray gone, and the Cheerios back, Brittany and I will rule this school as co-captains. We'll be able to put this whole club, and the losers in it, behind us." She slinked an arm around Brittany, and both of them swayed their hips tauntingly as they pranced out of the room without a second glance back.

They didn't even flinch at Finn's "I don't believe you; she has something on you!"

Brittany fiddled with the gum caught between her fingers, "Are we going to tell the Coach about Kurt kissing that boy at the party?"

"What? No!" Santana caught herself, lowering her voice. "No way."

"Well if we don't tell her, I think it could make for a great piece of gossip on my new Youtube series-"

"No, Brit," Santana interjected, "Coach Sylvester hears about this, the two of us are as good as fat. Their gay boy smooches didn't wake the sleeping princess, transform the beast, free the genie from his lamp or any other wanky fairytale euphemism. Nothing happened, and that's all we're gonna tell Coach if it comes up."

Brittany looked down and muttered, "I don't like lying. I like Glee club. Even if it means we get to keep our voices and be super popular. I don't care. I don't want to do this"

"Me neither, Brit," Santana rubbed Brittany's shoulder, comforting, "But we don't have a choice. If Coach Sylvester invokes that penalty, the glee kids will be teen royalty compared to us."

"I guess..." Brittany looked away. Santana looked down.

She wasn't happy, but this is what they had to do. They _didn't _have any choice, right?

* * *

><p>Kurt had a problem.<p>

Well, what Kurt liked to think of it as was a solution that came with its own set of new and exciting problems.

Problems like, _Oh god, what was that sound? Were those footsteps? Is that a teacher?_

Or, _I'm missing my math test right now; I'm going to fail if I don't just huuuuuuhhh-_

Or, _He needs to shut up, oh my-, okay, but really, unngh-, I'm gonna, okay but his groans are, uh-, it echoes in here-, oh god!_

Or, _I need to look up the most discreet way of removing semen from these Dalton-embroidered cotton-poly blend underwear. As tasteless as they are, I wouldn't trust the cleaning staff here to use the proper detergent if my life depended on it. _

But these problems, on the grand scale of things, seemed small. They _should_ have seemed small in comparison to Kurt's other dilemmas; his ignored schoolwork, his former bullying, his knowledge about Dave Karofsky's sexuality, his subsequent assault, his friend's futures, his family's ignorance, his deal with the devil, his transfer and his inevitable transfer back, the loss of his voice…

(Though Kurt had discovered the past few days…not needing to suppress his cries as he'd been gripping clothes, arms, hair… that his contractual condition could be as much a blessing as it was a curse).

But instead of his many other problems, what really had shifted Kurt's priorities was his constant, aching need to continue to distract Blaine the best way he'd come to learn how. By chasing each stolen glance, each almost-question, with hushed, quick but dangerously fun, orgasm after orgasm.

So, for example, when Blaine had approached Kurt between classes the day after the library incident, clearly wanting to discuss everything, Kurt's libido had dared him to drag Blaine back to the stacks, hold his left hand over Blaine's surprised but wanting mouth, and re-acquaint his right hand with the bulge in Blaine's pants. Blaine had arched, come, and clung to Kurt desperately, pressing his spine into the spines of the books. But Blaine had forgotten what he'd wanted to talk about, insisting that they hurry to class.

It had also worked later that day, after Warbler's practise, when Blaine had pointedly asked Kurt to stay behind to 'discuss yesterday's absence,' not hiding the desire in his voice as well as he thought, as was obvious on the other Warblers' faces as they'd left the room. When the last boy exited, Blaine locked the door, taking a meaningful, hard stare at Kurt as he approached him, but before he could open his mouth, Kurt was on him again. Blaine's focus had wavered much quicker that time; groaning, spinning them, pushing Kurt down on the couch, attacking his mouth, his neck, letting each other feel each other, before once again, the friction between their two clothed bodies, writhing and rutting and undulating against each other, was too much and both had lost control.

Or even when, during lunch the following day, Blaine had approached Kurt amongst his group of friends, this time receiving a positive response when he asked if they could talk. It wasn't the response he'd asked for, however; within minutes, they were between the needlessly decadent stalls in the third floor bathroom. Kurt had admittedly been nervous at first; both with his gut-wrenching history in another bathroom stall, as well as the indignity of it being _a goddamn, clichéd men's-room stall!_

But all his reservations abated when Blaine's hand had cupped him through his trousers, his uniformed back flush against Blaine's chest, head lolling back at the sensation, the pressure, the hushed begging in his ears for him to come. When they had heard the main door creak open, Blaine's whispers silenced but his hand pressed on, stroking Kurt, flattening his palm against Kurt's chest to relax his breathing, but not having to quiet him otherwise. There was no need; because even with Blaine's hand on his crotch, even with Blaine's erection pressed against the curve of Kurt's back, Kurt could moan, cry, scream as loud as he wanted without fear of giving away the game, since no sound escaped his lips. And when he'd finally come, panting silently, he could sink his whole body further into Blaine's, resting, relieved he could let go so completely.

Yes, through these instances, and about half a dozen more like them that past week, Kurt had managed to silence Blaine's queries about his own silence, his own feelings, his own problems. And he'd been experiencing near ecstasy while doing so. But while it had been almost perfect, it had been far from heavenly.

Because through the foggy lust that Blaine was quickly slipping into, together with Kurt, Blaine had still managed to retain one item from his confession earlier that week. Every time one of them would climax, (and it would happen, no matter how inconvenient the time or place) Blaine would follow it up with a fiery kiss, gripping Kurt's face, staring lovingly into his eyes, and declaring "I love you."

That Kurt, after feeling such bliss, had to endure every one of these kisses, knowing that they were a lie, that Blaine was wrong; it was a special kind of hell.

But maybe if Kurt kept up what he was doing, maybe if they kept touching and teasing and tugging…maybe Blaine would fall really, fully, _truly_ in love with him, too.

As Kurt sat in Warbler's practise that Friday, pen scrawling across the paper of the infamous Dalton Warbler notepad, he glanced up at Blaine, who, between choreographing and practising for their Regionals set, kept shooting him dirty looks. _The good kind of dirty_, Kurt amended; having been the target of so many of the bad kind, he felt it necessary to note the distinction.

Kurt was practically beaming with pride and self-satisfaction; he'd never been in any relationship with a boy, let alone one so sordid, but it was deliciously seductive. And productive. Kurt was astutely aware and proud that, aside from a few damning text messages they'd exchanged the weeknights when they were apart, texts he just _couldn't _ignore, he and Blaine hadn't really _spoken _in a week. Mission accomplished,

Blaine was clearly trying to blow his perfect score when he strutted over near the end of practise, desire thick on his tongue, "Hey there, Mr. Hummel."

Kurt flirtatiously perched his head on the top of his hands, pulling his elbows together shyly on the table.

"You looked like you were somewhere else today," Blaine teased.

Kurt shrugged, coyly.

"Don't, uh, take this the wrong way," Blaine's sultry tone fumbling, his mind also clearly multitasking naughty thoughts, "but if you can think of any way you, or _we_," he pressed his hands on the desk between them, rocking forward and onto his toes, "any way we could better spend our time, I would _love_ to hear how-"

But Blaine was cut off as Kurt silently tore the top paper from the notepad and carefully slid it on the desk, directly below Blaine's shoulders. Blaine glanced down. but Kurt's gaze never faltered from Blaine's eyes, soaking up him being caught off guard, Blaine's charm disappearing, only to be replaced with aroused shock, pupils exploding, throat clenching as he swallowed, reading Kurt's notes and _suggestions_. Blaine shook, coughed, voice at least two octaves higher than normal. His eyes locked back on Kurt's, flickering only slightly at the tip of Kurt's tongue that was poking out teasingly at the side of his mouth.

Blaine stammered, trying to regain some semblance of composure, "Y-you know. I've had a c-couple of these exact same ideas…" But all hope of Blaine maintaining control was lost.

Blaine whipped around to the rest of the choir room, quickly belting out as professionally as he could manage, "Alright guys. That's great for today. Work on your dance steps this weekend. See you all on Monday!"

Blaine turned back around to Kurt, whose eyes hadn't broken contact with the lead singer, staring suggestively.

Blaine blushed. His confident façade completely dropped, with one hand scratching the back of his neck, but he was resolute in refusing to look away from the alluring boy before him. "You w-wanna go get, uh, coffee, Kurt?"

Kurt grinned, nodding knowingly. His pulse raced, having to suppress his urge to jump Blaine then and there. But, luckily, not for long.

Because they were _so_ not going to the Lima Bean.


	8. The Importance Of Body Language I

**Chapter 8a – Don't Underestimate the Importance of Body Language**

"…and did you _see_ Wes's face? You didn't? Oh man, Kurt! He knows. He _has_ to know."

Kurt coyly shrugged at Blaine's suspicion, hands held firmly behind his back as the two of them walked briskly down the hallway. Blaine's hands were fidgeting, full of energy and excitement, gesturing wildly as he spoke. Kurt almost viewed the movements as a cover, as if Blaine keeping his hands distracted would keep them off Kurt.

The tension between the two boys was palpable, electric; though they tried to play it as subdued as possible, weaving between the many bodies scrambling through the dorm common area, all in different stages of getting back from class, relaxing, studying or getting ready to go out. It was a Friday night, after all. And Kurt was going to take full advantage of it.

At first they had sprinted through Dalton's empty marble halls, hand in hand, back to Kurt's dorm building, all nerves and hormones, incited by Kurt's note at practise.

'_Tips for the dashingly handsome Warbler's lead soloist:_

_1. Eyes are gorgeous pools of hazel; what would I give to spend all day swimming in them? If those hypnotic eyes remain fully open, instead of being eclipsed when the soloist belts out a loud note, they will most certainly dazzle the Regionals audience; if they can refrain from fucking me from across the room like they are now. Not that I mind._

_2. Body is more lithe than the soloist is giving himself credit for during the dance routine; should have more confidence in this regard. If he so desires, I am willing to demonstrate just how flexible his assets can be. _

_3. Mouth is particularly spectacular; the voice, the smile, all flawless. I have no criticisms, but wonder if it's time would be better spent, less on Pink medleys, and more on my hot, tight body, aching for you to touch me already._

_4. My roommate Dwayne left to spend the weekend at home with his parents.' _

Kurt rounded in front of the dark oak door, the stainless steel numbers "281" signalling that he was back at his temporary home. He reached into his bag, searching frantically for his keys, finding them and dropping them on the ground; he was shaking with excitement. Blaine practically dove to pick them up before Kurt got a chance, colour flooding his face when he realized himself as he stood back up, shy. Blaine handed the keys back to Kurt, chuckling timidly, anticipation briefly masked by embarrassment.

Kurt eased both Blaine and himself, winking as he took the keys, reaching forward to grip the ornate door handle (boy were his hands sweaty). He slipped the key into the lock, turning and letting the door swing open.

Kurt extended his hand forward with a mock gentlemanly gesture, and Blaine mocked back in his most absurd British accent, "Very kind of you, sir, to invite me back to your humble abode," before stepping inside. Kurt grinned eagerly, following him, and flicking on the lights.

They revealed a simple and immaculately clean room; two single beds with a dark oak frame, two desks, two wardrobes and nightstands to match; all placed as mirror images of each other on opposite sides of the room. It was instantly obvious whose side belonged to whom, however. Aside from the large gaming desktop computer and the 3 foot bong sitting atop the left side's desk, Kurt doubted Blaine would attribute him the various posters of Playboy models.

Normally his roommate's side was a disaster; but Kurt had rushed back between his final class and Warbler's practise to shove all the clothing, scattered around Dwayne's half of the room, into the wardrobe. His roommates' tendency to stay in their room all day and night, getting high while playing Star Craft, had been a burden when Kurt had first moved to the Dalton dorms, but it had been particularly bothersome this past week. Now that he had the room free, he was certainly not letting Dwayne's poor personal hygiene interfere with his plans.

Blaine let out a nervous sigh, "So, this is what Dalton's ridiculous residence fees get you, huh? Nice, though a little small for the price. I'm glad my parents didn't bother forking out the-"

But Blaine was cut off by Kurt's lips, after the silent boy had let his bag slide carelessly off his shoulder and he'd dove forward, firmly gripping Blaine's face with both hands and pulling him in for a kiss. They'd wasted too much time already. Kurt felt as if he was on fire, and only the sweet taste of Blaine's mouth could put it out. It had been more than 24 hours since Blaine had last kissed him, he'd counted. Even though the kisses hurt his heart every time, even though he knew that they were bad for his mental health, Kurt seemed to crave them just the same. He was addicted.

Kurt felt an arm at his lower back pulling him in closer, pulling their hips together, and Kurt came up for air, turning his head desperately to the side, unable to hear the moan escape his throat as Blaine started to suck hungrily on his neck, Kurt's hands gripping Blaine's head harder at the action. Kurt pulled Blaine's face off of him, pulling his mouth against his, biting on Blaine's lower lip, almost hard enough to bruise.

"Kurt, maybe we should, uh," Blaine gasped out. After a minute of an unresponsive Kurt nipping lightly, rolling his hips, Blaine took the initiative to reach over and shut the door. "There," Blaine managed triumphantly.

He flicked the deadbolt, and the sound of the lock clicking was a bit louder than Kurt had remembered it, but Blaine was grinning. "Privacy. No intruders. No escape. I'm not keen on giving your dormmates a peep shoaaaaaaaahhh-" Blaine had lost the sentence around the time that Kurt began nibbling on Blaine's earlobe.

"Kurt, maybe we should, ah," Blaine stumbled on his words as the two stumbled towards Kurt's bed, kicking off shoes, trying and failing to move as one entity, but both too distracted to care. The back of Blaine's knees hit the edge of Kurt's bed frame, and Kurt released Blaine's neck from his mouth long enough to give Blaine a sultry smile as he slid Blaine's blazer off. "Kurt maybe we should talk about exactly what's happen-AH!"

Kurt had chosen that moment to boldly flick his hand hard against Blaine's shoulder, causing him to lose balance and flop clumsily backwards. Kurt couldn't have felt, or looked, more pleased with himself.

"I mean, we're both, uh, inexperienced…" Blaine offered, trying play it off like he hadn't just been shoved onto a bed, seeking Kurt's reason, "…and I care about you, and…" Kurt bent over on top of Blaine, hand tracing his side seductively before he pressed one hand down firmly into the mattress. The other hooked around the top of Blaine's shoulder. Kurt knelt one knee on either side of Blaine's hips, pulling his himself forward and sitting on Blaine's legs, ass resting on the space directly below Blaine's crotch. "…maybe we should be taking things a bit slower, and…" Blaine panted, not sounding entirely convinced of his own words.

But Kurt rolled himself forward, his chest flush against Blaine's, and their two stiff cocks slid against each other through their pants, sending a visible jolt through both of their bodies.

Kurt smirked. Blaine groaned. Blaine's argument dismissed, Kurt could feel a hand roughly cup his ass, and he was caught completely off guard when Blaine followed it with uncharacteristic forwardness. Blaine pushed both their bodies back up and managed to gain enough leverage to flip them both smoothly, but as both their weights came down hard into the mattress, Kurt's back taking the brunt of it, Blaine's demeanour shifted from courteous to wild, almost animalistic, one hand each clutching at Kurt's sides, as the position forced Kurt to wrap his legs around Blaine.

Their hips thrust out of time with each other, but the sensation was more than enough to keep them going. Blaine was back to licking and sucking at Kurt's taut neck, and Kurt let loose breathy moan that was, as always, soundless.

It was moments like these that Kurt pondered exactly how the spell worked; he could feel the vibrations in his throat, feel the muscles pulling and stretching and relaxing the way they had his whole life. If you had plugged his ears, Kurt would swear his cries could wake the whole floor of his dorm. Against this, the silence was eerie; that he could scream at the top of his lungs and he wouldn't be heard.

Blaine nibbled at a particularly sensitive spot as thrust connected with Kurt's cock, causing him to arch and cry silently. Kurt couldn't move much though, Blaine's body was pressing down on him, hard, pushing him into the bed. Blaine's weight on him seemed heavier than Kurt had imagined. Kurt's hand flew to the back of Blaine's neck, fingers slipping through the few loose hairs there, hand moving along with the needy movements of Blaine's head.

Blaine pushed his chest off Kurt slightly, hand snaking up to pull at Kurt's shirt. Never mind that Kurt still had his blazer on, constricting his arms; one of Blaine's hands slipped underneath the blazer, around Kurt' back, curving Kurt's spine away from the bed. Blaine's other hand slid from Kurt's thigh to between their bodies, up to the top of Kurt's chest, caressing along the way. Blaine's mouth was back on his, as Blaine's hand reached to loosen Kurt's tie, slipping it off of Kurt in a clumsy movement. Blaine was still gripping the tie, threaded between his fingers, as he attempted to undo Kurt's top shirt button while still kissing him. Blaine fumbled for a few seconds, but when he found it, he started to pull.

And Kurt had the sudden need to distract attention away from Blaine's mission, so he reached a hand down between their two bodies, palming Blaine's cock through his pants, eliciting a desperate moan from Blaine, his eyes squeezed shut. This just seemed to egg Blaine on more, however, and he pulled harder at the button on Kurt's shirt.

Couldn't Blaine tell that Kurt didn't want him to do that? Kurt reached up to start undoing Blaine's shirt, nearly popping several buttons off in his haste. Kurt pushed the white material back, fingers gently tracing Blaine's chest as he did so, lightly grazing his nipples and earning Kurt a tantalizing shudder from Blaine in response. Blaine disengaged their embrace only temporarily to pull the shirt off the rest of the way himself. He quickly removed his undershirt and tossed it behind him.

Kurt only had a brief second to admire the half-naked, hairy but defined body before him, feeling himself get even harder at the sight, Blaine clearly feeling it too. Blaine rolled back down, clearly intending to force Kurt into a similar state of undress. Kurt bucked up to further distract Blaine, but he must have taken this as encouragement, as he pulled and pulled at Kurt's shirt…

And suddenly, Kurt was flooded with fear. His mind screamed out a million different things; that Blaine was too heavy, that Blaine was too forceful, too eager, that Kurt didn't know why _he'd_ been so eager for this and who was that person who had done all those things with Blaine in the library, in the choir room, in the stairwell, all over the school, because that hadn't been Kurt, couldn't have been, because Kurt wasn't like that; Kurt wasn't just some dirty teenage boy who got felt up in dirty bathroom stalls where anyone could walk in and see or hear him, unlike now, because the door was locked and no-one could hear Kurt scream if he needed to anyway and why wasn't Blaine sensing his distress, that he didn't want this anymore and he'd screwed himself over because he'd spent all week trying to shut Blaine up like this and now he won't be able to communicate to Blaine to stop if he needed to and-

"Kurt?"

Kurt's vision slowly came back into focus, and Blaine's face was much further away from his than he last remembered.

"Kurt, what's wrong?" Blaine asked with genuine concern. Awareness of his body returning, Kurt realized that they hadn't been moving. That his own body was stiff as a board.

"You just stopped-, Kurt, did I do something?"

This was silly; Blaine wouldn't hurt him.

And now he was talking, and talking led to discussions of feelings and Kurt couldn't have that, so he reached forward to pull Blaine in for a kiss.

But Blaine pulled out of the embrace entirely, unhooking Kurt's still frozen legs from his waist. "No, Kurt, stop." Blaine warned carefully.

Kurt slowly pushed himself off the bed, struggling to stand, hands trembling as they gripped for Blaine's waist, trying to bring them closer together. But Blaine's hands slid down, gently cupping Kurt's and pulling them off, holding them each tightly in his own. He jolted them slightly to get Kurt's attention, which had noticeably wavered from his task, as his whole body was shaking, and not in a good way.

"Kurt, Kurt, Kurt, listen. Stop, we need to talk about this. You're clearly uncomfortable, and you need to tell me why." Blaine demanded, but Kurt was avoiding his gaze. Blaine searched for it, ducking his head down in order to catch Kurt's eyes, which were welling up. "We're not doing anything else until you talk to me. What's freaking you out?"

But Kurt honestly didn't know. He was being flooded with all these negative emotions, and he had no idea how to categorize it all. His body had clamped down on him, and was refusing to speak to his brain.

After about a moment of inaction, he raised a single finger up, signalling '_one moment'_ to which Blaine nodded, "Of course." Kurt darted away, marching towards the door, relief flooding him as he felt the loud metallic click as he unlocked the deadbolt, and he slipped into the hallway.

* * *

><p>Ten minutes had passed since Kurt had left Blaine back in his dorm room, shirtless and confused. Kurt was sitting in the common area, ignoring the greetings and acknowledgements from his dormmates, staring off into space. He clutched his phone desperately in his hands, wanting to text Blaine to see if he was still waiting for him, but either response to that came with repercussions that Kurt was not yet ready to deal with.<p>

He wanted Blaine. That wasn't even a question. Dear god, he wanted him. Had someone asked Kurt a week ago if he'd thought he'd be in a room, his room, _his bed_, shirtless with the boy of his dreams; he would have told that person they were crazy. But then Kurt would have begged them to tell him how to get it done. Because, just the thought of Blaine, half naked, oh god, naked even; Kurt tingled with anticipation.

Kurt had even done something earlier that day he could only blame on a temporary bout of insanity. And horniness. Because in the haze of arousal that had been the previous week, Kurt had just sort of gone with it; the goal in his head have been to keep Blaine from talking about feelings or asking and questions, and to let his other head take care of the how. But as deliciously naughty it had all felt at the time, come Friday, Kurt had realized it had all been relatively tame; clothes on, being felt through the pants. Kurt had planned to bring Blaine back to his room that night, and he'd had no idea how far they'd go, but he knew it would be further than anything he'd done before. Or he'd known about, really.

It was this lack of knowledge that had inspired him to find out more. Kurt knew enough of the basics; there were blowjobs, and tops, and bottoms, and one would be…penetrating…the other… But Kurt didn't know the specifics; he had seen a few scarring seconds of footage, and he was too frightened to discover what any of his queries would pull up on Google.

Whenever he'd masturbated thinking about sex, his thoughts were always pleasant and romantic; sexy but almost innocently vague. Which contrasted heavily with the kind of talk and insults he'd heard hurled from his peers back at McKinley. How anytime something terrible was happening, it was 'like being fucked up the ass.' Like Kurt being tortured for his sexuality wasn't enough; that gay sex would be its own punishment.

Kurt was scared. But he was also a slave to his hormones, not to mention trapped in a deal with a witch that wouldn't let him escape Blaine, or his need for him, if Kurt tried. So, during lunch, he'd made a snap decision to contact the only person who knew both of his plight, and probably how to link him to a safe website to answer his questions.

**From Kurt to Puck:**  
><em>'*Without linking me porn,* can you help me find TASTEFUL information about gay sex?'<em>

About 10 seconds later, Kurt's phone vibrated and he'd answered it reluctantly.

"Okay, so, the first thing you gotta know Hummel is that asses don't get wet like pussies do, so you're gonna have to buy some lubricant and slowly work him open, but it'll be so worth it, trust me, anal is the best, you'll see, or I guess he could do it to you, I mean you don't know if you're a top or bottom until you try it, and oh, blowjobs, my number one complaint with women is they don't know how painful teeth are on a cock, but I guess you would because you're a guy so, yeah, watch it, and…"

Kurt had sat in the cafeteria, eyes wide, mortified.

Unable to vocalize his objection, Kurt's thumb had hovered over the 'end call' button. But, as crude and unfocused as Puck's explanation had been, he had actually answered a lot of Kurt's questions. So Kurt had stayed on the line and just let Puck talk. For 27 minutes.

But as quick as Kurt felt he'd adapted to his sudden shift from shrinking violet to nymphomaniac, part of him must not have adjusted, as had been evident on the bed with Blaine moments beforehand.

He'd been fine the other times! But, suddenly, not now? Now he was freaking out? Shouldn't that have kicked in like 10 orgasms ago?

But, Kurt realized, this time was _not_ like the other times. There was a distinct difference between two guys, standing up in a public area, bringing each other off, fully clothed; and what had been going on moments beforehand. Those other encounters, if Kurt hadn't enjoyed what was happening, if he needed help, he could make noise, somehow, he could walk away. He'd never wanted to, though; it was all too much fun.

Like a game, it was as if…it wasn't real, it wasn't him; that the Kurt who'd inhabited his body, who'd become a sex-crazed maniac, was an alien, a demonic possession, blocking the _real_ Kurt's feelings so that he could keep up the charade. Because looking back on the week, it hadn't felt real; it had been a haze, a dream, a fantasy. It was so unreal that he hadn't even heard his own voice in a month, the voice that would protest, that would have deflected Blaine's advances with catty remarks. His voice which would have flirted, teased, but made it abundantly clear that the _real_ Kurt was nervous; that the _real_ Kurt would want to take it slow.

Which was not what had been happening back in Kurt's dorm room; that hadn't been a game. A locked door, a bed, taking off each other's clothing; _that_ was decidedly real. And for some reason, terrifying. _But why?_

Kurt thought about Blaine, Blaine who he adored, who turned him _so decidedly_ on. About being on top of him, about jerking Blaine off, about going down on Blaine, sucking on Blaine's cock, about 'rimming,' as Puck had mentioned, fingering him, hearing him moan Kurt's name. He thought about maybe, possibly, making love to Blaine. There wasn't an ounce of hesitation over this; Kurt was feeling slightly frustrated just thinking this in such a common area, with his classmates all around him. He carefully and inconspicuously crossed his legs.

So why had he reacted so negatively back in his dorm room? Kurt thought about Blaine kissing him, his stomach sinking for the thousandth time at remaining speechless. _Not so pleasant, but I've been thought_ about pushing Blaine down on the bed. _Okay, I guess_. He thought about crawling up Blaine's body, about Blaine flipping them over, about Blaine on top of him.

Kurt felt the room close in on him slightly.

He recalled the sound of the lock clicking shut, and it shook him. His fists clenched as he remembered Blaine's weight on him, pinning him down. He was trapped. He couldn't cry out; no one could hear him, it was like something was blocking his voice as Kurt was being caressed, kissed, _violated_, and he felt unclean and…

_Hands grasping at him in a bathroom stall, covering his mouth, pulling at his shirt, Kurt struggling to get free, get away, be anywhere, there were people waiting for him and the jazz is blasting and…_

Oh. _Shit_.

But…no! That didn't make any sense; Kurt had been intimate with Blaine all week; kissing, tugging, palming, groping. He'd been so hot, so desperate through all of it. Damn it, Kurt had been _proud_ of how his almost-assault had barely entered his mind. How could Kurt be cool one minute, and suffering from PTSD the next?

Kurt grasped his hair in his hands, curling in on himself, squeezing his eyes shut and furiously shaking his head. He'd been good, happy, euphoric even. He'd been fine!

_No nononono NO! Why won't this just go away? Why does he keep fucking haunting me?_

Kurt felt as if the world fell out from under him.

This was insane; this was illogical. He wasn't going to let Karofsky, and his own irrationality, beat him like this.

Kurt was going to ignore his trembling, ignore the paralysis that seemed to clutch him at random intervals. Kurt had a mission, a goal. There was too much riding on this. He had friends to save, he had his own future to look forward to. And he _wanted_ Blaine. Truly, madly, deeply _wanted_ Blaine.

He was going to prove to Blaine, and himself, that he could do this. That no one pushed Kurt Hummel around, not even Kurt Hummel.


	9. The Importance Of Body Language ii

**Chapter 8b - Don't Underestimate the Importance of Body Language**

**From **_**Kurt**_** to Blaine:** _'Are you still in there?'_  
><strong><br>From Blaine to **_**Kurt**_**: '**Yes. Are you still here?'

**From **_**Kurt**_** to Blaine: **_**'**__I'm nearby. Are you mad?'_

**From Blaine to **_**Kurt**_**: **'No. I'm worried about you.'

**From **_**Kurt**_** to Blaine**: _'Don't be. I'm coming back.'_

**From Blaine to **_**Kurt**_**: **'Good, but I'm still worried. I care about you, Kurt. We need to talk.'

**From **_**Kurt**_** to Blaine: **_'Don't be worried. I still want to do this.'_

**From Blaine to **_**Kurt**_**:**'We're not doing anything more until we talk about what just happened. And how you've been acting all week. And why you flipped out on me at Rachel's party.'

**From Blaine to **_**Kurt**_**: **'?'

**From**_** Kurt**_** to Blaine: **_'I'm still here. And I'm coming back.'_

**From Blaine to **_**Kurt**_**: **'To talk, right?'

**From **_**Kurt**_** to Blaine:** _'To have sex with you.'_

**From Blaine to **_**Kurt**_**: **'Woah. I don't know what you were thinking was going to happen, but we're most definitely not having sex tonight. We weren't going to before you freaked. And it's so not happening now.'

**From Blaine to **_**Kurt**_**: **'Kurt, I can hear your feet in the hallway. I can see your shadow. I know you're outside the door.'

**From **_**Kurt**_** to Blaine: **_'Promise me we'll do something.'_

**From Blaine to **_**Kurt**_**: **'?'

**From **_**Kurt**_** to Blaine:** _'So we're not going to have sex. Fine. Promise me we'll do something that's not sex, but in the same ballpark. One of the bases, more than over the clothes.'_

**From Blaine to **_**Kurt**_: 'If you talk to me, maybe. I can't promise anything until we talk. I can promise that we'll be doing *nothing* until then.'

**From**_** Kurt**_** to Blaine:** _'But you still want to? If this "talk" of yours goes how you want it to, right? You still want me?'_

**From Blaine to**_** Kurt**_**:**'Of course I do.'

**From **_**Kurt**_** to Blaine:** _'Okay, good. Are you still shirtless?'_

**From Blaine to **_**Kurt**_**:**'Yes.'

**From **_**Kurt**_** to Blaine:** _'I'm going to talk, I promise. But I want you to know how serious I am about wanting to do something with you. So when I come in, I'm going to take off my shirt. Let me.'_

**From Blaine to **_**Kurt**_**:** 'Okay.'

* * *

><p>Kurt's dorm door opened, and he was met with the sight of Blaine staring at him, sad and clearly concerned. Kurt couldn't imagine what had been going through Blaine's head, and he felt guilty that he'd just abandoned him here. Especially since Blaine seemed determined to stick it out. He could have just said 'screw it' and have left angrily, not taking Kurt's apparent rejection. But Blaine claimedto love Kurt, so, maybe it was some sense of obligation, or because Blaine didn't want to be discovered as a fraud.<p>

Or maybe Blaine really _believed_ that he loved Kurt.

Anyway, Blaine was still there. And for that, Kurt was pained, but grateful. He smiled weakly, but Blaine didn't smile back. Kurt turned to shut the door, hand instinctively moving to the deadbolt. But he flinched mid-motion, and he chastised his anxiety, but he lowered his hand back to his side, leaving the door unlocked. If Blaine noticed, he didn't say anything as Kurt turned around to face him.

"Do you want to come over here?" Blaine motioned to the empty side of the bed. "Do you want me to sit at your desk? How do you want to do this Kurt?"

Kurt motioned that the bed would be fine, for Blaine to stay where he was seated on the edge of it. Kurt unbuttoned the top button of his blazer, quickly removing it, folding it and putting it on the chair. Blaine protested, "Kurt you don't have to, really-" but Kurt signalled for him to be quiet.

He reached to undo his tie, but he remembered that it had already been removed, wrapped around Blaine's busy hands. He took a deep breath and finally undid the top button that Blaine had been pulling at so fervently. Kurt tried to keep his cringing internal, and to a minimum. This had seemed like such a good idea when he'd thought of it. Like sexual insurance.

Once he got past the first button, however, he found the next few became gradually easier until the front of his shirt was open entirely, and he let gravity pull the sleeves down, until the garment lay in a pile on the ground.

Kurt thought it might have looked sexy if it hadn't been so awkward.

Kurt moved towards the bed, in his pants, socks and a skin-tight undershirt. Blaine reached out one of his hands to lead him, but thought better of it, pulling his hand back and placing it in his lap instead. He was clearly wrestling with something, and couldn't contain it for long.

"I thought…"Blaine started slowly, "I thought you wanted to be shirtless, like me…"

Kurt looked down at his undershirt. It was his last line of defense. But this was about proving that he didn't need to defend himself against Blaine. He moved his hands to the base of the fabric.

"Can I?" Blaine asked. Kurt froze. Blaine added hastily. "It's okay if I can't. It's just…you said you wanted to do something. We can't if you're scared of me touching you, so…"

Kurt swallowed, but nodded allowance. Blaine scooted forward, and Kurt lowered his hands to let Blaine's grip at the material. "It's okay," Blaine said gently. Kurt suppressed the urge to run. He could do this, he could do this, he could do this. He could let Blaine do this. He could summon the courage for this.

The shirt slowly moved up over his torso, and he could feel the colder air hit his skin, Blaine's smile reassuring him. He felt himself calm as he looked into Blaine's eyes. He lifted his arms as Blaine moved up, pulling the shirt over Kurt's head and off his arms, dropping it to the floor beside Blaine's own.

There they were, both chests exposed. Blaine shimmied back, giving Kurt space again. "Where's your phone?"

Kurt pulled it out from his pant pocket, fingers ready at the virtual keyboard. Blaine's phone was before him, their conversation routine already returning, even after a week of abandoning it completely.

"First, I want to apologize," Blaine started, regretful.

Kurt didn't know what to say to that; how was this Blaine's fault? Kurt had been the one trying to manipulate _him_ with sexy stuff, then run out on him during; not the other way around.

But Blaine continued. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to my gut, I didn't resist you more when I could tell something was wrong. It's just you were so…irresistible, and hot, and-," Blaine paused, clearly chastising himself internally. "I should have said something sooner. I should have stopped this before it got out of hand. Which it did, for some reason. A reason I _need_ you to talk to me about, by the way. But I am really, truly sorry."

Kurt nodded, accepting Blaine's apology, even if he didn't believe it was necessary.

Blaine cut right to the chase. "Why did you ditch me at Rachel's party after you kissed me?"

Kurt took a heavy breath, annoyed at how the question caught him off guard. But, as had been evidenced by his relationship with Blaine the past week, Kurt was fantastic at re-directing focus. He typed out, _'Why didn't you kiss me last Friday night after our date?'_

Blaine furrowed his brows, "How is that relevant?"

'_It's relevant enough.'_ Kurt typed back, jaw set hard.

"I thought I explained this on Monday…" Blaine answered, "About how I was worried about ruining our friendship, about wanting to take it slow…I mean, now that I know you're interested too…it seems stupid in retrospect. But that's why, I guess."

But this wasn't a good enough answer for Kurt, not when he _knew_ there was more to the story. He leaned over to the side of the bed, ignoring Blaine's "Where are you going?" and picked up the coat that Blaine had dropped. He reached inside, into the inside pocket, and when he sat back up properly, Kurt threw down the folded scarf on the bed between them. He pointed, asking without having to type.

"That's…a scarf, Kurt."

Kurt's questioning look did not waiver.

"You're deflecting, this is stupid. Why have you been trying to distract me from talking to you all week?"

But Kurt leaned forward, finger tapping forcefully on the black fabric, demanding an explanation. Kurt momentarily felt like he was trying to get Blaine to confess that he'd cheated, even if he knew it wasn't true. But even if it was, Blaine had cheated on Kurt _with Kurt_. Blaine didn't know that, though, so it still counted.

"Okay, fine!" Blaine snatched it up, grasping it in his palm. "It's from-, I got it-, god, I want to be honest with you, but the truth…it doesn't even make any sense to me."

Kurt relaxed his face slightly, resolving to make this as easy as possible for Blaine. He grabbed his phone, _'Just tell me. I've been worrying about it since I saw it; when you held it last week, you looked at it like it was a token from a long lost lover or something.'_

Blaine's mouth twitched, choosing his words carefully, "'Long lost lover,' is not right, but not far off. It's weirder than that. It's from…someone I've never met. Someone who may not even exist."

Kurt tried to feign ignorance, but he was curious at how Blaine had interpreted their real first meeting, so he decided to use that to help convey 'surprise.'

"Long story short," Blaine huffed out, clearly this was difficult for him to admit. "I had a dream that someone gave it to me. I don't remember who, or what really happened. I just sort of have these flashes, but I can't see their face; I was really drunk at the time. But I do remember that whoever it was had a beautiful voice. We sang together. It was so unreal, Kurt. It had to be a dream. Except, when I woke up, I still had the scarf; it was tied around me. I don't own a McQueen scarf, Kurt. I know, I know, the horror! What kind of gay am I?" Blaine mocked Kurt's scandalized expression, and Kurt blushed.

"I haven't told anyone, except David, who thinks I made it up, to make a point about soul mates or romance or something, but I swear…that voice, it was so…sweet. If it wasn't a dream, if it was real… I hope it wasn't a girl."

Kurt frowned at the last bit. He wondered what Blaine thought his voice might actually sound like if he could speak.

But it was somewhat relieving to hear that Blaine _hadn't_ remembered the kiss. One of Kurt's many points of contention with himself the past week was that clearly their make-out session post-sectionals wasn't as earth-shattering as he'd thought, if Blaine couldn't match up the kisses. But if, as far as Blaine knew, there wasn't anything to remember, well that hurt Kurt just a little, but it didn't hurt as badly as it had before.

"It's not that I was thinking of the mystery guy, or girl," Blaine added at Kurt's apparent sadness. "You have nothing to be jealous about; it just reminded me, at the time, again how clueless and stupid and utterly over-the-top ridiculous I can be with love. I guess I got cold feet. But…" Blaine considered the scarf in his hands, "if it's going to be a problem, I don't want it. I'll throw it out, burn it, whatever."

_No!_ Kurt thought. He wasn't ready to tell Blaine the truth, not yet. He was embarrassed, and there were questions. But he thought he might want to confess it one day, when it was so far behind them that they could just laugh about it.

He quickly texted, _'No, keep it. It's a cute story. Very romantic; almost like a fairy tale. Maybe one day, this dashing stranger or beautiful siren will reveal themselves to you.'_

Blaine smiled, "I'm only interested in you, Kurt. Not some random person who ran away when I was passed out on the floor. If they even exist."

But Kurt had already snatched the scarf back and tucked it in Blaine's coat pocket. "Okay, fine." Blaine chuckled, but then he remembered himself and his tone became more serious. "Is that why you were upset over the kiss at Rachel's party?"

Kurt weighed the question; _'Yes. I thought you were only interested in me when you forgot whoever that person was, because you were drunk. I really liked you, but I thought you weren't truly reciprocating my feelings. I was confused and angry.' _he half-lied, with the truth.

"But that got all cleared up when I finally spoke with you on Monday?" Blaine asked. Kurt nodded.

"And then you decided the best way of making sure I still 'reciprocated' your feelings was to make out with me and get me off 24/7?" Blaine laughed. "Well, I can't _really_ complain about that tactic, but…" Kurt laughed too, silently and he shrugged. He couldn't go into a more detailed explanation without bringing up the spell, which he flat out couldn't do.

Luckily, Blaine seemed to accept this explanation, but he became visibly nervous again as he started scratching his neck, clearly searching for the right words.

"Okay, good. So, um, why did you get scared, before? Tonight, I mean."

Kurt's lips were dry, and he sucked he sucked them into his mouth to wet them, before typing out the answer he'd recited while he'd been in the common room.

'_I guess it was because we'd never gone that far before. I was so turned on by the thought of it, I overestimated how ready I was.'_

Blaine looked understanding, but still a bit confused, "But you were coming back here, expecting us to have sex? Don't get me wrong Kurt, I want to do…so many things…with you…but only if you want to do them too."

'_I do, though.'_

"Maybe," Blaine trailed off, but flinched at Kurt's angry gaze.

"Okay, I believe that a part of you does. The part that's jumped me practically every time we've been in the same room together this week. But there's another part of you that's scared, that you're keeping from me. I think that part came out of hiding tonight, and I'm not interested in doing anything more until _that_ part starts letting me in."

'_I don't know what more you want me to say; I thought I wasn't ready. But now I'm here. Now I am.'_

Blaine shook his head, "No, it's more than that. Kurt, you're not as good at covering your emotions as you think you are. What was different between this time and the other times?"

Kurt wanted to say, _the other times, you weren't on top of me, trying to strip me, accidentally reminding me of the time that I was almost raped_, except he really didn't want to say that at all.

So he went with a vague truth, _'I think it was because it felt like I wasn't in control of the situation this time.'_

Blaine crossed his legs on the bed, placed his elbow on his knee, and pressed his mouth into his palm. "Huh," he managed to state after a minute.

Kurt, who was already on edge at this turn in the conversation, didn't appreciate the sudden lack of communication. Wasn't that poetic? He dipped his head to catch Blaine's eyes, opening his own, asking _What?_ wordlessly.

"Well, it's just" Blaine gestured, placing his hands palm-up on each of his knees, "I'm not a sexpert by any means, but I think I can safely say that sex, and anything related to sex, is about giving up control. To the other person, because you love them, and trust they won't hurt you."

Kurt leaned back warily; he didn't like that. It's not that Blaine's words didn't make sense; they made perfect sense. But as he considered them, the thought of not being in control frightened him. He was much more comfortable with a wall between him and people around him. Every time he had let his guard down before, he'd gotten hurt. Kurt couldn't help but think that, with sex, you were so exposed, and that wall was more important than ever.

"Listen," Blaine leaned forward, placing a hand on Kurt's knee, and Kurt was very proud of himself for not flinching at the contact, "if you don't want to do anything tonight, it's okay. Really. I've been just so happy to finally _talk_ to you. It's felt like forever."

But Kurt was also warming to Blaine's touch, already entranced by the comfort in his voice, and letting a slight arousal sink in. Both at the contact, and the sight of Blaine's fully exposed naked chest, something he'd only let himself appreciate again within the last few moments. He placed his hand upon Blaine's, mouthing '_It's okay. I want to.'_

"Okay, then…I have an idea. Want to hear?" Blaine sounded giddy. Kurt nodded enthusiastically.

"Okay, so, I know our next step in the natural progression of a sexual relationship is supposed to be hand-jobs, but…I've sort of been fantasizing about this since I've met you" Blaine blushed, and Kurt's eyes widened with happy shock.

"How would you feel…about a…blowjob?"

The image of Blaine, spread before Kurt, erect cock waiting to be kissed, to be licked, to be sucked, the sound of him moaning, him calling Kurt's name as Kurt brought him off with his mouth; it flooded Kurt's mind and fuelled him with lust.

He pounced forward, hands on Blaine's chest, kissing his lips, his neck, and Blaine gasped out "Kurt!" But after a second, Blaine pushed his hands between them, sending Kurt back a bit, but steadying him. "Kurt, Kurt. That's not what I…I meant, I'd be giving _you_ a blowjob."

Oh.

"Kurt, text me what you're thinking," Blaine added quickly.

Kurt let himself think for a moment before he reached back for his phone and typed, honestly.

'_I thought you wanted me to give one to you. I really want to give you a blowjob, Blaine. Much more than I want you to give one to me. It's the control issue again. I'm scared to lose it.'_

"Okay," Blaine measured his response, "I get that, but there's three things. First of all, straight up, I really _really_ want to give you a blow job. A lot." Blaine smiled, Kurt grinned shyly.

"Secondly, we just talked about how losing control is part of all this, and if we're going to even think about having sex, or even a conversation about sex one day, we're going to have to be really comfortable with each other, letting the other person take control. Right?"

Kurt almost rolled his eyes, but refrained. He lowered his head, but signalled he agreed.

"And finally, and I don't want you to think I'm using this against you. I mean I'm about to give you a blowjob if you want it," Blaine smirked, and Kurt couldn't help but chuckle, "but, it's just, a blowjob is kind of a risky thing, more so for the giver…."

Kurt remembered Puck's speech about teeth, but he let it slide.

"…and it's just…tonight, when we were making out and you didn't say anything-"

A bitchy look from Kurt caused Blaine to hastily add, "I don't mean speaking; it's not about your mutism, believe it or not. What I mean is…I'd want to be more confident that you'd communicate to me, somehow, if something was wrong."

Kurt felt slightly embarrassed at this, mad at himself and sad for upsetting Blaine. He vowed to make a better effort, to drop the whole orgasm-to-avoid-talking impulse he'd been relying on all week. Now that he reflected, now that Blaine had talked some sense into him, he fully realized how totally unsustainable it had been.

Blaine cupped Kurt's cheek with his hand. "Don't worry, I'm sure we'll get plenty of opportunities to work our way up there. Or your way down there," He winked. Kurt grinned.

But he still wanted to prove that he could do this, that he was up to the challenge, now-ish. Kurt kissed Blaine hungrily, who luckily didn't object this time, letting Kurt's hands roam freely for the first time over his naked chest. Kurt soaked in the feel of Blaine's soft curls, the shape of his tiny but sharp abs, feeling a warmth pool in his belly as he felt himself get harder. As his hand dipped lower, cupping Blaine's cock through his pants, causing Blaine to hiss out, "_Kurt_," Kurt started to rub, feeling that Blaine was just as hard as he was.

He kissed fiercely, tongues mingling softly, before he reached down his free hand and pinched, hard, at Blaine's side.

"Ow!" Blaine shouted, seizing and breaking the kiss. "What the-?" But Kurt just quirked an eyebrow pointedly. _See?_

"Okay, I get what you're trying to say," Blaine clutched his side, rubbing away the pain there, "and that's good. And I'll keep it in mind for another time. But right now, I'm in charge, and I'm going to suck you off. If you'll let me, please."

Kurt stiffened slightly, but he nodded. His heart was fluttering, but before he could completely fold in on himself, Blaine reached out reassuringly, "It's okay if you're nervous. So am I. It's my first time, too." Then, as if releasing a lot of energy, Blaine shook, smiled, laughed, and rocked backwards.

Blaine looked behind him, grabbed Kurt's pillows, and propped them up against the wall. "I think it's best if you're sitting for this. Go sit there," signalling to the impromptu seat he'd just made.

Kurt paused, but eventually he relented and crawled on the bed, flipping around, pressing his back into the pillows, his body curving slightly, bringing his knees into himself, but keeping his head and upper body still vertical.

"See?" Blaine pointed out, "you're still sort of in control in this position, instead of lying down. And if you need me to stop, pinch me like you just did, okay? "

Blaine had a point, Kurt reasoned. He was nervous all the same. It was starting to feel less like he was about to have a boy's mouth…down there…and more like a driving instructor was trying to reassure him before his road test.

Blaine must have sensed this, and crawling forward, his lower torso pressed up against Kurt's shins, he sensually leaned up and in for a spirited, passionate kiss; mouths sucking hard, his tongue swishing around in Kurt's mouth, tasting him, tasting each other, lungs desperate for oxygen but neither boy paying any mind until they absolutely had to. Blaine hummed, eyes shut, and Kurt was both so soothed and worked up at the same time, that when Blaine whispered his trademark "I Love You," Kurt chose to ignore his own logic and blindly believe him.

"Do you want me to-?" Blaine asked, index finger tracing a pattern down Kurt's chest, along the fine hairs of Kurt's stomach, stopping just above Kurt's belt. "Or do you want to-?"

_Giving up control, right?_ Kurt took in a deep breath before mouthing '_you.'_

Blaine looked touched. And excited.

He slowly undid the belt as Kurt tried to hide how tightly he was gripping the sheets at his sides. The anticipation was building as Blaine pulled down his zipper, and Kurt had to keep staring into Blaine's eyes, which hadn't left his own, to push down any thoughts of another boys' hand that had almost gotten this far under much less pleasant circumstances.

Kurt felt Blaine tug his pants down, Kurt had to push his legs and press his back into the wall in order to lift up enough to let Blaine pull the pants over his ass, then sitting back down and lifting his legs as the pants were tugged all the way off.

Blaine's eyes had to break with Kurt's to pull this off, but this jolted Kurt out of the dark thoughts that threatened to press into his brain. Because Blaine wasn't Karofsky; he was kind, and gentle, and thoughtful, and so amazing, and gorgeous, and charming, and as he stared at the boy before him, gradually Kurt felt his fears dissipate. This was different, this was what he wanted. And the abolishment of those negative emotions left that much more room for the adoration, the want, the need, to bubble over.

It was the first time doing something with Blaine that he was actually thinking clearly, and his sexual anticipation was completely positive. And he was so, so happy.

Blaine seemed to pick up on Kurt's heightened state, clearly pleased with himself, and he started planting soft kisses on Kurt's chest. Kurt's hand instinctively moved to grip in Blaine's hair gently, the gel starting to crack, allowing Kurt's fingers to gain enough purchase.

Blaine trailed his kisses upwards before he started to lick at Kurt's nipple, using his tongue to trace a circle, and if Kurt's throat could produce sound it would have produced a breathy gasp, followed by a high pitched moan, once Blaine's mouth sealed over top of the pert nub.

Kurt desperately wanted to feel Blaine back, but the way their bodies were positioned, he couldn't even see Blaine's chest, or the outline of his hard cock, as both were pressed downwards onto the bed. Kurt settled for Blaine's ass, until he actually looked and it hardly felt like settling.

But then Blaine's mouth left Kurt's nipple and moved downwards, kissing lightly, dipping his tongue Kurt's navel, before Blaine placed one final kiss at the exposed skin above the waistband of Kurt's boxers. Blaine's fingers hooked onto the sides, but before he pulled down, he looked up at Kurt, wordlessly checking one last time for permission, which Kurt gave.

Blaine tugged them down, exposing Kurt's mostly erect cock to the air, and Kurt gasped soundlessly. Blaine just stared for a few moments, entranced, which was kind of adorable so Kurt tried his best not to let on how impatient he was quickly getting. But he twitched, and Blaine looked up, laughing nervously.

"I'm sorry Kurt, uh," Blaine grinned, "I, uh, this is just, it's a big deal for me too; I'm just trying to…wow, you're very, um, neatly trimmed," he added lamely.

Kurt winked (_winked!_ How he'd missed his own confidence). Let it never be said that Kurt Hummel was not a hygienic boy.

"I'm going to," Blaine pulled himself up from a lying position to a crouching one, on his knees. Blaine gripped Kurt at the base, and then slowly slid his hand up, thumb at the underside of Kurt's length, pressing firmly. Kurt shuddered at the contact, Blaine's warm hand send sparks of heat through his core. When Blaine's thumb reached the head, thumb playing with the pre-cum at the slit, Kurt sunk into himself, soundless moan tumbling. Blaine repeated the slow motion, up and down Kurt's shaft a few times, before picking up the pace.

It felt amazing; Kurt didn't know how he'd been getting off on Blaine's hand through all those layers of fabric when he could have had this, flesh against aching flesh. He pressed his head hard back into the pillow, absently thankful at Blaine's foresight.

"Kurt, I'm going to, um, now," Blaine muttered out; Kurt looked down and it appeared Blaine had been watching Kurt's face the whole time, clearly enjoying this almost as much as Kurt was. Kurt blinked, _okay_, and Blaine breathed out before moving his head down to seal his mouth over Kurt's cock.

_Oh, oh ohhhh wow_. Blaine's mouth was warm and wet and soft and _so so so good and oh god_, Kurt had never felt anything like this before and the small pool of warmth at his belly spread to his whole body, and his nerves were shot and he felt like he was on fire in the best way possible, like his brain was going to melt and his body was going to fry and it would be the most pleasurable way to die because _Oh god._

_Maybe _this _is the "kiss of true love."_

Coherent thought after that became problematic for Kurt. He wanted to watch Blaine, look him in the eye as Blaine gazed up at him, heavy lidded, looking so amazing with his pink lips stretched around him. And he tried, but he couldn't maintain it for long, because he was too busy thrashing his head in all directions, neck extending, fingers pinching themselves through the fabric of the sheet, he was gripping so tightly. His knees extended and his toes curled, and staying upright was almost a chore but his arched back kept him pressed hard against the wall.

Kurt had the urge to thrust forward, an urge he couldn't control as he felt Blaine's warm, soft mouth bobbing up and down his length. Blaine's hand gripped tighter at the base and Kurt's hips did move upwards as Blaine switched tactics, slowing down but sucking hard. Luckily, from this position, Kurt couldn't thrust up to far or hard, but it still caught Blaine unawares as he pulled off, coughing.

'_Sorry!' _Kurt tried to mouth over and over. But Blaine shook his head, "It's okay, I'm okay. I just need," cough, "It was my fault."

Kurt couldn't comprehend how that could possibly be true, but "I just need to hold your hips down, I forgot that," and Blaine shifted, spreading Kurt's legs out and crawling between them, bending over, using both hands to steady Kurt's hips and his own weight.

"God, Kurt, you look amazing, and I love the feel of you in my mouth, on my tongue, and," Blaine sealed his mouth around Kurt again and Kurt was gone, seeing stars. His vision was white as he squeezed his eyes shut, he was sweating and panting, and his head pushing harder into the pillow than before as he quickly fell apart under Blaine's ministrations.

Blaine had obviously gotten the memo about teeth because all Kurt could feel was the soft lips that Kurt's mouth had gotten accustomed to, wet, sliding up and down, kissing. Blaine took time between strokes to sloppily lick up the underside of Kurt's cock, tongue teasing Kurt's head.

Kurt' hands flew up, one gripping the back of Blaine's head, with Kurt fighting desperately against the urge to push Blaine's head down, and the other into the locks of his own hair, tugging, pulling. When Blaine sank his whole head back down again, Kurt could feel he was close; in the back of his mind he wanted to communicate that he usually lasted much longer than this, but he was usually solo and normally didn't have Blaine's fantastic mouth around him. He hoped that could change.

He was pushed further and further to the edge, his orgasm a few strokes away, and he tapped Blaine furiously on the shoulder, who thankfully pulled off because Kurt didn't want to choke Blaine again because Blaine was so wonderful and that was his last thought before he came, his mind full of nothingness.

As he came down, he could retroactively feel the sensation of the hot liquid passing through him, as Blaine's hand worked up and down his length furiously. He unclenched his toes, his hands, all the muscles in his body.

He realized now that he had cried out Blaine's name silently while he was coming, as his throat muscles relaxed too. It was so freeing to let himself go like that, he'd never come so hard, and screamed so hard during (even though no one could hear it).

Kurt finally managed to open his eyes, to look down at Blaine who had stroked him through, but took Kurt's hiss as a signal to let go as he became sensitive. Kurt glanced at the white mess on his belly, and his instant desire to clean it up was trumped only by his need to kiss the beautiful boy who had done this for him.

Blaine's pupils were huge, Kurt noticed, before he pressed a soft kiss to Blaine's mouth.

"Kurt, that was, huuuuuh," Blaine was clearly still on edge, palming himself through his pants. Kurt's instincts told him to sleep, but he needed to finish this for Blaine. "Your face, it was, oh god, you tasted, I, need, I'm _so close._"

It took all the effort Kurt had to brush Blaine's hand aside, and he quickly unbuckled his belt, pulled down his fly, shoved down his pants to his knees, and wrested Blaine's cock from his boxers. Kurt spit in his hand, "Oh, god," and he stroked Blaine fast and firmly, eliciting broken moans from Blaine, "Oh, yes, Kurt, please, so close, so, oh god, yes, oh, _Kurt._" And Blaine's mouth made a soft 'o' as he came too, spurting onto Kurt's hand, collapsing forward with Kurt catching him.

Kurt understood how Blaine could have been only a few strokes away from coming; just the sight and sound of Blaine was enough for Kurt to want to be able to be hard again. The weight of Blaine's cock in his hand, the feel of the smooth skin of a shaft that wasn't his own; Kurt loved it.

Kurt shifted slightly, the sticky liquid on his belly starting to dry. He reached into his nightstand, beyond the lube (which he must remember to try out next time he jerked Blaine off because he was _so_ doing this again), and grabbed a few tissues, dabbing off stomach, his hand, and the spots on his thighs where Blaine had come. Disposing the mess, Kurt then moved Blaine beside him, letting him sink into the pillow. Blaine let out a huge sigh.

"Kurt, that was….incredible." Kurt nodded and hooked his arm around Blaine's, head resting gently on Blaine's shoulder.

"Was I-, did I do alright?"

Kurt turned to Blaine, giving him the sternest _Are you kidding?_ face he had in his arsenal.

"I mean, were you okay, with it? Did you enjoy it? You looked like it, but I want to know for sure,"

Kurt smiled, blinking positively.

"Not…scared to try it again?"

Kurt shook his head confidently.

"Hah, okay. Good. Great. I'm glad," Blaine bit his lip, smirking, pleased.

Kurt closed his eyes, his throat humming, too content to care that it couldn't be heard.

"God, you looked so…hot. You're normally _so _together, and to see you fall apart for me, because of me, Kurt. Wow, I'm just…I love you so, so much." Blaine pushed Kurt's head up with his shoulder, turning it in for a light kiss. Kurt was so blissed out, trying to ignore the unbroken spell, still humming silently the whole time as Blaine pressed a hand to the base of his neck. After a moment, Blaine pulled back.

"Um, okay," Blaine sounded confused. Kurt's look at him mirrored this confusion. _What?_

"It's just…you're vibrating," Blaine stated. _What?_ _So?_

"Like, your throat and chest are vibrating. Here," Blaine pulled Kurt's hand flush against his own neck. "FeEeEeEeEeEel that?" Blaine said, warbling his voice, and Kurt felt the vibrations Blaine was talking about, which stopped when Blaine stopped talking.

"Your chest feels like mine when I'm speaking, or singing or…were you…humming?"

There was no good to be had from answering that question in the positive, not when no sound was coming out of his mouth. Not when the answer was 'yes, I was humming, but you can't hear it, I can't explain why there's no sound, it's a whole thing…'

Kurt shook his head.

"Okay, that's really weird, because…" Blaine considered his words very carefully, his post-orgasmic haze still clouding his judgement. "I just…never mind."

He settled back into the pillows, eyes closed. Kurt was almost keen to press onwards, knowing Blaine was the one holding back now. But his overwhelming fatigue forced him to follow suit, settling back into the warm space against Blaine's arm and the pillow.

As Kurt drifted off to sleep, mostly proud at what he'd overcome, and relishing how the night had eventually turned out, he couldn't help but absently wonder what more he could do, what he was missing. How Blaine had treated him, taken care of him, felt about him, felt _with_ him. Kurt wondered how it could possibly be that this _wasn't _love.


	10. Sick of Swimming, Ready to Stand i

**Chapter 9a – Sick of Swimming, Ready to Stand**

Kurt strolled into his bedroom, absently paying attention to where his feet were taking him, thumbing through his texts from Blaine.

When Kurt had decided to visit home the following day, he'd done so for several reasons.

The stated one had been seeing his Dad, who he missed a great deal. Sue's spell rendered Burt Hummel unable to maintain a conversation with his son longer than "Good to see you home, buddy; Gotta head into the shop," which cut Kurt to his core. Being away from his Dad had been hard; being unable to communicate with him, even harder. Being the reason for both of those things, letting the guilt of that wash over him; that was the hardest. But just that fatherly arm around his shoulder, even for a couple of seconds, was enough to make Kurt feel warm and safe. To re-instil Kurt's much valued confidence and sense of belonging.

Secretly, though, he'd also come home to get out of Dalton for a while; that place was playing with his head and he needed the smell of Carole's baking to help him course-correct. Most teenagers would be clambering to live in a place without adult supervision, but Kurt honestly felt he needed it. Even if it was just an illusion, because Carole had simply smiled and waved him up to his room.

While the previous night with Blaine (_and his mouth stretched around me oh god)_ had been magnificent; his talk with Blaine, and being called out on his sex-addict possession, had really opened Kurt's eyes to the string of bad decisions he'd made when left to his own devices.

Kurt figured Blaine would find a way to sneak out of his house and into Kurt's dorm if he'd stayed. And though parts of Kurt stirred at the thought, the endless possibilities of hours alone together, other parts wondered (as _knowing_ was too much to ask) whether he was ready for something that intense.

Kurt _had_ felt damn near euphoric as he'd fallen asleep the night before, after Blaine had gotten dressed and dashed home to make his 11 o'clock curfew. He'd felt great, satisfied, proud at himself for so fabulously beating back the issues that had surfaced while Blaine had been on top of him, grabbing at him. He'd felt like he'd conquered a fear, that being with Blaine could solve all his problems, if he'd just let him.

But Kurt's doubts and anxieties about movingforward and doingmore had come roaring back the following morning. He'd thought those feelings of fear, of revulsion, of shame, had vanished as it had been months since the bathroom incident, and especially since he'd started fooling around with Blaine. But they hadn't; they were still alive and well, dancing in his gut.

It was as if he hadn't realized he'd dashed off a cliff, running on nothing, and then made the classic Wile E Coyote mistake of looking down. _Yikes_! Now that he was aware that the reservations were there, that there was still something clawing at his insides underneath his hormone haze, Kurt couldn't ignore it. He was still wanting, still alive at the thought of being with Blaine, of doing what they'd done and more. But there was that goddamn nagging, that sense of tightness, that Kurt would lose control and everything would go horribly wrong. Somehow. That he wouldn't be able to vocalize if things took a turn.

Intellectually, Kurt knew this was ridiculous; he knew that Blaine cared about him, was attentive, compassionate, and wouldn't even dream of making Kurt feel uncomfortable. Those were just a few of the many reasons why Kurt loved Blaine. But, no matter how many times he unfolded and refolded everything in his head, Kurt just couldn't shake this feeling.

He wasn't afraid, at least, he didn't think he was. But he was terrified of becoming afraid, of the fear paralyzing him again the next time his libido took the wheel. He'd considered telling Blaine about his reservations, about the real reason he'd froze and ran out of the room. However, Kurt didn't really understand them himself; they confused him, and therefore he was unable to articulate them, even if he wanted to. He didn't want a repeat of his freak-out to further confuse things with Blaine. Not when he was sure that if Blaine was within groping distance, he would indeed grope. Kurt needed some time and some space to sort through his feelings without temptation; coming home was his self-imposed chastity belt.

But if Kurt was really being honest with himself, the notion of Blaine knowing about Karofsky's attack, knowing Kurt had been the cause of and at the center of something so frightening, demeaning, something that made Kurt feel so fucking _unclean_ every time his mind wandered back to that stall…He couldn't handle any of the emotions _he_ had about the incident reflected on Blaine, on the face that had given him hope. On someone who thought Kurt was wonderful, amazing, strong. Kurt was pristine in Blaine's eyes; if Blaine knew, it would ruin that, it would ruin _him_.

Kurt didn't want to push Blaine away, though. He'd made that mistake with his family and friends in all the months leading up to his deal with Sue. Just because Blaine didn't need to know about _that_ didn't mean he wanted to distance himself from him. He'd vowed he'd keep up the communication, and he was holding himself to that promise. Kurt wanted to be with Blaine, even if they weren't together, even if Kurt needed this time alone, he still loved knowing Blaine was there, thinking about Kurt the way that Kurt was thinking about him. Now they were actually "talking" again, they'd already fallen back into their old routine of non-stop texting, so even though they were separated, it didn't really feel like they were apart. And Kurt's rational side had figured that it was so very important that they re-establish this part of their relationship.

Especially if there was any hope of breaking the spell within a week's time. There was always _that_.

He'd expected weirdness from his parents because of the spell. He'd expected stress from the clock counting down before he'd have to transfer back to McKinley and, oh yeah, cost his friends their ability to sing. He'd even expected grief from Finn when his stepbrother had come to pick him up, as Finn had clearly been stressed between secretly dating Quinn, the competition and of course, the threat that loomed over him if Kurt failed to get Blaine to love him.

"KURT HUMMEL, YOU FILTHY WHORE!"

What Kurt hadn't expected was Rachel Berry standing in his room, looking dishevelled, fists tight and pointed at the floor as if they were keeping her from levitating off the ground and exploding with rage.

Though, in retrospect, he should have.

Kurt stumbled backwards as he entered his room, screaming silently and clutching his chest, eyes wide with shock. He barely had time to register _what the hell _before Rachel stomped over and started jabbing him angrily.

"Can. You. Speak. Yet?" she punctuated every word with a harsh poke to Kurt's side, Kurt unsuccessfully trying to dodge her attacks, mouthing _'OW'_ with every jab. Quickly he shoved her back, bringing his arms up to his defense, '_Oh my god stop!'_

"I didn't think so!" Rachel snapped angrily. "Because if you _had_ started speaking again, you would have called me to let me know, alleviating my worry instead of letting me lose my mind as we quickly approach the end of my career and basically my life! One week, Kurt. We have ONE WEEK."

Kurt, shielding his body, mouthed clearly and with the greatest annoyance, '_I know!'_

It was at that second that Finn darted into Kurt's bedroom, past Kurt, looking apologetic. "Sorry, bro. Mom just told me she let her in while I was out to pick you up. I sort of forgot to tell Mom that me and Rachel aren't together anymore…"

Rachel's eyes flashed momentarily as Finn trailed off, trying to tug her away from Kurt. But Rachel was too consumed with rage to let the conversation waiver. She crossed her arms, planting her feet.

Kurt took a moment to take in her ensemble, which was even more tragically mismatched than usual. Her hair was frazzled and her eyes were puffy. Kurt knew Rachel wasn't particularly adept at clothing herself or applying make-up, but she did always take excellent care of her body and made sure she got a full-night's rest. Something she clearly hadn't had in a while as her whole body was twitching with stress, fatigue and a touch of insanity.

Kurt had known from her incessant texts that she was slightly unhinged about Kurt breaking the spell; he'd been half-surprised that she hadn't broken into his dorm room to attack him in his sleep. That she hadn't must have lured him into a false sense of security, because she definitely looked crazy enough to do so.

"How am I supposed to react when Puck tells me you're HAVING SEX…" Finn jumped and Kurt's buried his hands in his face out of embarrassment.

"Shut up, Rachel!" Finn reprimanded her, "Parents…"

"…having sex," she repeated, whispering with a bite, "with a guy who clearly doesn't love you."

Finn looked angry at Rachel, but as the words sunk in, he gave a cautious, questioning look at Kurt. Who wanted to die. After a minute or so of their intense stares, an embarrassed Kurt pushed past both of them, and flopped backwards on his bed in defeat. He grabbed the nearest pillow, with a loud _whoosh_, he plopped it on his own red face.

"What anyone does in their personal lives is none of my concern, Kurt. You want to have casual sex with the first boy who gives you notice? Normally I wouldn't give a rat's ass."

"That's not fair, Rachel. They could be-, Kurt could be-…it could be _romantic_ and junk."

He could feel weight on the left side of him, causing the bed to sink lower. He refused to move at first. It was one thing to ignore text messages constantly reminding him of his failure to seal the deal; it was another when the bane of his existence was in his room, furious and unbalanced, shouting his humiliation at the top of her oversized lungs.

"But when your sexual shenanigans are distracting from the task at hand; mainly for Blaine to fall in love with you, NOT keep him _in heat_ for you, then I have a huge problem!"

But when Rachel pulled the pillow off of his face, and Kurt grabbed another, which again she took, he realized he was going to have to face the music. He sat up and pulled out his phone.

"And don't give me the excuse that this is your sad attempt at trying to break the spell, because if that were true you'd be there, right now, kissing him until you MADE him love you, so you are clearly just in it for the sex which I find deplorable when MY VOICE is on the line and-"

Rachel stopped as she felt her pocket vibrate, whipping out her bejewelled cell phone and reading the message he'd typed while she had whined.

'_I still think there's something hidden in the contract.'_

Kurt had been considering this for a while; mainly since Blaine's confession last Monday. He certainly wouldn't put it past Sue to slip a devious clause in there, some hidden condition he hadn't fulfilled preventing him breaking the spell. He'd conveyed his suspicions to Rachel, Finn and Puck on Wednesday, when he'd brought Blaine off in the study room between classes. Blaine had bitten back tears, he'd been so overflowing with emotion, when he'd leaned in to kiss Kurt and repeat the words of doom. Kurt simply couldn't believe in that moment that Blaine didn't love him, and he'd told them as much, that there might be something else at play.

However, Kurt been deliberately withholding on the details of _why_ he thought the contract may be dubious.

Rachel had texted back that she had read the contract in full when he'd signed it. That there had been a lot of detail about the transfer and the way authority figures would react to his voicelessness. But the only line pertaining to breaking the spell was a "kiss of true love."

Kurt had been devastated the entire week, swallowing every kiss and "I Love You" from Blaine with a heaviness in his heart. But he'd still held out hope. He'd texted her back, asking if she was sure there weren't any hidden clauses, any asterisks, things written on the back; but Rachel hadn't responded to any of those texts.

Rachel shook her head as she sat beside him on the bed, "After 3 days of trying and failing to break into her office, (damn that Becky Jackson,) Coach Sylvester actually tried to get me to sign a new one that would exempt me from losing my voice if I quit glee. I was _so_ tempted to sign it, too. But _I _read it over first and it included clause that would have forced me to lie to the school board about having an affair with Mr. Schue. And while I would do almost anything to make sure that I could keep my voice, I couldn't do that.

"So we're relying on you now, and your ability to get Blaine to love you. Sue let me look over the contract again, Kurt. I even went over it with a black-light I stole from my science class; nothing! All it asks for is that damn kiss; it doesn't specify any further."

Kurt collapsed back on the bed, feeling defeated. He held his phone above him and texted; _'I don't know what more I can do.'_

"Well, has he _told _you he loves you?" Rachel asked desperately. "If you're having sex, I'd hope he at least said the right things to get you into bed."

Kurt supressed the urge to smother Rachel with a pillow,'_We haven't had sex yet, so you can stop saying that, please and thank you.'_

'_And yes, he's told me he loves me.'_ Kurt added as an afterthought.

Rachel seemed to be grasping for anything, "Well, do you think he really means it? Guys are dogs; they will say anything."

Kurt nodded. _ 'He practically writes me a sonnet every time he kisses me, and other than the obvious, I don't see any reason not to believe him.'_

"Do _you_ love him?"

Kurt bolted upright, Rachel spun around. They both glared, offended, at Finn, who'd they'd forgotten was in the room. He was holding his phone in his hand, and Kurt realized he'd texted using the thread including Rachel, Finn _and_ _Puck_. _Great._

"What kind of moronic question is that, Finn?" Rachel blurted out. "Of course Kurt loves him. If he didn't, I wouldn't be 168 hours away from enrolling in community college for stenography!"

Kurt had been typing as Rachel was defending him. _'I've loved him from the first time I kissed him, heard him sing.'_

'_God, from the first moment I laid eyes on him.'_

"Is that love, though?" Finn asked. "I mean, I've been attracted to girls…like, instantly, and then later as I got to know them better, I've liked them. But I don't think that's _love._"

'_When did you get so profound?' _Kurt had punched angrily into the keyboard after a moment of being unable to respond. What a stupid line of questioning; of course he loved Blaine. Blaine who was so sweet, who cared so deeply about him, who loved him, Kurt was sure of it.

But then that doubt, the same one that had hit him that morning when he'd reflected on the blowjob, was back, knocking ever so lightly on his chest, whispering in his ear to pay attention.

Kurt brushed it off, turning back to Rachel, who was staring back down at her phone, holding up a finger, confused.

"Hold on… _'from the first time I kissed him'_" Rachel quoted Kurt's text back to him. "I was there at the party; I may have been a little drunk, but I saw that kiss Kurt. It was…interesting, but I wouldn't have taken that to mean you're in love. Maybe Finn's right."

Kurt pursed his lips. _Shit._ He hadn't meant _that _kiss.

"Yeah, that was sloppy and…enthusiastic…and stuff. But I don't think," Finn hesitated, "I know you haven't been in a real relationship before, and I'm not judging you, or looking down on you, or whatever. But, Kurt, if that's what you're basing all this off of, then…"

"Then how can we trust your judgement on anything? Oh god! I'm going to lose it, I'm going to lose my voice. And then I'm going to kill you, Kurt Hummel, because you can't tell the difference between true love and an erection!" Rachel's hands were gripping tightly in her hair and she was rocking back and forth. She looked ready to pounce on Kurt and claw out his eyes. He scrambled backwards, falling off the bed clumsily and stood as quickly as he could to defend himself.

Finn rushed over to the bed where Rachel was crawling across, shouting expletives, and grabbed her by the ankle to drag her in the opposite direction of Kurt. He kept his arms around the near psychotic teenage girl, ignoring their closeness, struggling to hold her back, "She's tiny but I can't keep her off of you for long!"

This needed to stop. Kurt needed to explain; but that would mean telling them about Sectionals. He really didn't want to do that; how would it sound to someone who wasn't there? Even Kurt thought he came off as weird and stalkerish in that story, which is why he hadn't told _anyone_. Not even Puck, when he'd questioned Kurt, for like a week afterwards, about his espionage outing to Dalton.

But as Kurt looked at Rachel's frantic form, "Get off me, I'm going to end him!" and into his stepbrother's desperate eyes, he reluctantly reasoned that he owed them an explanation. He swallowed his pride.

'_I kissed him before. After sectionals. It was wonderful. Fireworks. I thought it would be easy to kiss him like that again.'_ Kurt managed to type out quickly.

Rachel continued to bark out threats as she grabbed at her phone with her free hand, "You little shi-, wait what?"

"What?" Finn asked, still occupied with holding Rachel. She tilted her phone up over her shoulder so he could read. "Wait…when Puck told you to skip the party?"

"Why have you never mentioned this?"

"Yeah, why didn't you tell me, Kurt? I thought we were brothers! I've been telling you all about me and-," Finn looked down at Rachel, swallowing the name Quinn, "…stuff."

"Wait wait wait," Rachel had stilled, but Finn was still wrapped around her. She shrugged him off, "We were all there on your first day at Dalton; he didn't know you."

"He looked like he kinda did," Finn countered. "Before he saw us, I mean. He said Kurt looked familiar."

"Well, _I_ tend to recognize people whose tongues' I've had down my throat a whole lot more than Blaine recognized Kurt," Rachel spat. Then horror crept across her face, "Oh my god, _'he's been known to be more susceptible to kissing when he's inebriated'_…Kurt, that's what you said to us on Facebook before the party. Holy crap on a cracker, did you kiss him when he was passed out?"

Kurt had been standing there the whole time, defensive. However, this accusation from Rachel shocked him out of his frightened state before he shouted a silent, offended, _'No!'_

"Then what the hell, Kurt?" Finn was reasonably upset.

"You owe us an explanation, especially if we're going to be losing our voices because of it!" Rachel shrieked.

Kurt took a huge breath, sat on the stool in front of his vanity, back to the others because he couldn't watch their expressions, and began typing out the events of that night so many months ago. It was less like an explanation and more like a confession.

When he'd finished, he felt embarrassed, ashamed, almost childlike in his fear. But there was also a tiny amount of relief, too, because he'd been carrying that around with him on his own. I had been torture not to be able to share the memory, even with the one other person who'd been involved. He couldn't; it would lead to questions he couldn't answer, as well as overall awkwardness, especially after everything that had happened since.

Kurt spun around on the vanity, expecting revulsion. What he got, however, was a visibly confused Finn, and a teary eyed Rachel.

"Oh, Kurt!" she rushed over, and Kurt flinched hard because he thought she might tackle him. But instead, Rachel pulled him up into a tight, emotional embrace, pant-crying between words. "That. Is. The. Most. Beautiful. Story. I've. Ever. Heard."

Kurt was shocked.

Rachel pulled away, wiping her drenched cheeks with her sleeve. "You have to tell him! Don't you see? You need to tell him, and then it will be _true_ love, because he'll know the truth, and then the spell will be broken and I can keep my voice and you two will live happily ever after and have so many children and could I please be your surrogate because ever since my mom-" but Rachel's happy plea descended into tears again.

She walked back to the bed and flopped down dramatically, "Oh god, it's so romantic! It's like a musical! 'Come What May'? Amazing!..."

Kurt wasn't sure; he could try and explain to Rachel his reservations, but he doubt she could absorb them right now. He turned to Finn, who, while not seeming to devolve into a pile of goo the way his ex-girlfriend was, gave a look that seemed to agree with Rachel.

Kurt frowned.


	11. Sick of Swimming, Ready to Stand ii

**Chapter 9b - Sick of Swimming, Ready to Stand**

"How much longer do you think?" Blaine asked, fingers tapping nervously at the steering wheel.

Kurt typed the same words into his phone and sent them off to Finn. He fidgeted win his lap. Kurt couldn't help it; he had a lot on his mind.

Dalton had a P.A. day the Monday following his weekend retreat, so Kurt had stayed home that extra day while his dad and Carole had gone into work. However, while Finn was off at school and Kurt's adult supervision had left him unsupervised, he'd received Blaine's text, asking if they they spend their day off together. Kurt had reluctantly agreed, but it had thankfully turned out he could still 'behave' himself so long as he kept a reasonable distance from Blaine. Though it had been difficult; Blaine kept on looking at him, that same damned grin he'd had after going down on Kurt. Like he wanted to do it again, and Kurt was so very tempted to let him.

Kurt had also been struggling all day, debating whether to confess to Blaine their post-sectionals encounter. There had even been a perfect opportunity for Kurt to spill; Blaine had absently riffled through Kurt's wardrobe, impressed and intimidated by many of his outfits, and had stumbled across Kurt's scarf drawer. As Blaine had fingered the scarves, Kurt had wanted to come clean. But the threat of embarrassment and accusations of dishonesty loomed. He kept on imagining Blaine, shock and anger marring his otherwise gorgeous features, rejecting Kurt, running out of his house and never looking back, effectively screwing both Kurt and his friends. Kurt hated his cowardice, but he had ultimately kept it to himself.

Later on, Burt had texted both Kurt, Finn, and Carole saying that he'd be working late and he wouldn't be able to pick Finn up or drop Kurt back at Dalton within a reasonable time. Finn's ratty old truck had been out of commission for two weeks. Carole had texted, saying she'd find a way to squeeze her shift down to 10 hours; though it was going to be difficult. However, Blaine had offered to pick Finn up and drive Kurt back to Dalton so as not to stress Carole.

Kurt had been thrilled with the excuse to get out of the house, get away from the dizzying temptation to jump Blaine, and add Finn as a third party to stop Kurt from acting on his instincts. However, they'd been sitting in the parking lot of McKinley for 15 minutes, Finn nowhere to be seen. Kurt was getting antsy; it was cold outside, and Blaine had to keep the motor running in order to keep them both from freezing.

Kurt was also less than thrilled to be sitting, out in the open, in the parking lot of the school he resented so completely. The place that had been the site of most of his pain and humiliation. Just thinking of its halls, lined with lockers just waiting for his slight frame to be slammed into. Or the locker room, where so many of his football teammates had shouted slurs at him. Or the first floor bathroom, where…

Well, nothing terrible had ever happened to him in the parking lot, but it was still like standing outside the gates of hell.

A minute later, his phone buzzed, and he held it up to Blaine. Finn's text read _'1/2 hour prob.'_

Kurt mouthed to Blaine from the passenger seat, _'I'm sorry._'

"You don't have to be sorry, Kurt," Blaine smiled. "That's not why I was asking, anyway."

Kurt grinned sheepishly back, but when Blaine looked away, his face fell. He didn't like that he was wasting Blaine's gas, but they couldn't turn around to go home because if New Directions practise was done in half an hour, they'd have about two minutes before they'd have to turn around and drive back again. If Blaine had been driving, he'd be inaccessible. But instead, there they sat, conversation light and easy, Kurt pushing down all of his desires, and his reservations about those desires, simultaneously.

Blaine, however, didn't seem to be repressing anything, glint of something wicked in his eye. Kurt couldn't help noticing how Blaine was getting worked up about something, but he was reluctant to ask, given that he could feel Blaine's excitement flow off him in waves.

"I've been thinking…"Blaine started, carefully but with enthusiasm, "about Friday night."

Kurt blushed, but he nodded, indicating he knew immediately which part of Friday night Blaine was referring to.

"And I was thinking…" Blaine continued, "that…um…I could have done better."

Kurt's hand reached out instantly to reassure him. Blaine could be such a perfectionist; at times it could slightly grate on Kurt, others…well, 'endearing' was one of the emotions swirling in his chest.

"No, don't worry. I'm not beating myself up about it," Blaine quickly clarified. "What I mean is, I have some thoughts about improvements. To make it better. For both of us. I'd like to try…keeping my mouth on you as you…I want to try swallowing."

Kurt stiffened; he hadn't been expecting that. Blaine couldn't just say that, could he? Kurt's heart started to flutter and thoughts of too fast, too soon started firing quickly at the back of his mind.

But images and thoughts of Blaine, mouth tight around his cock, licking, gurgling as he lapped up Kurt's come as it spurted out of him into Blaine's heat…Kurt's brain short-circuited a little.

"I keep thinking…this is embarrassing…" Blaine gave an uncharacteristic blush, but he was still grinning suggestively, "I want, no, need, to know what you taste like."

Ok, Blaine was definitely breaking some rules saying that. There had to be a law. There had to be a ban on items that could get someone worked up as quickly as Blaine's words were doing to Kurt.

"…and I thought," Blaine looked around, "the pressure would be on to not…spill anything…while we were in my dad's BMW."

Kurt's eyes widened. _Here? Now?_

"We have the time…"Blaine reasoned. "And the sun's about to set; no one's around. Look, I could drive over there," he pointed to the small space between the windowless walls of the cafeteria and the gymnasium, evidently figuring out the privacy they afforded. Most kids at McKinley discovered this, eventually, "and I could…I want to go down on you again so badly Kurt. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it all weekend."

Kurt was desperately searching for a legitimate reason to decline, but the hardness in his tight jeans was arguing strongly in Blaine's favour.

God, sex made him stupid.

Through his lust, he managed the herculean task of typing out, '_What about you? I want to try going down on you,' _which was true, but he was half-hoping Blaine would remember Kurt's reluctance last Friday that was annoyingly absent at the moment. But Blaine shook his head.

"No, you're-…_we're _still not ready for that." Blaine corrected, looking sheepish. "But I could still do this for you. I want to, if you want me to."

_Say no_, thinking about where they were, that they were in a car and how high school, even though they were in high school. About the possibility of him tensing again mid-way through, because the pressure was on… but then Kurt's mind slipped back to Friday, and the sensation, and he couldn't fake indifference if his life depended on it.

Kurt nodded, and Blaine's smile reached back to his ears. He drove the car forward into the little alleyway, backing it in to alleviate Kurt's concern, _'What if someone sneaks up behind us and sees?'_

"You can sit up there," Blaine motioned to the passenger seat as he parked the car. "That way you can still be in control and-, uh, Kurt," he practically ripped his seatbelt off of him, diving forward and pulling Kurt into a hungry kiss. "I love you."

Kurt was just as desperate as their cheeks were pressed together, before Blaine was tugging at Kurt's seatbelt, opening Kurt's winter jacket and lifting up Kurt's body to try and pull down his pants.

"Uh, a little help," Blaine said, frustrated after a moment with fighting Kurt's normal clothing. Kurt had taken this weekend to try and re-familiarize himself with the wardrobe he'd abandoned months earlier when he'd been attacked…

Kurt didn't need to be thinking about that right now, and he pushed those thoughts away as he pushed his pants down to his ankles.

Blaine was still.

"You're not wearing underwear," Blaine stated, amazed. Kurt merely shook his head; he didn't have the wherewithal to type out that they wouldn't fit under his jeans.

Blaine moaned, "That's…so hot," head diving down to Kurt's half-erect cock; no workup, no foreplay. Just Blaine's hot lips sealed around Kurt's exposed length and _god god god feels so good, ugh, yes…_

Blaine's head bobbed eagerly, and Kurt's hands weaved in between Blaine's ungelled hair, Kurt finally getting to appreciate their loose feel for the first time. As Blaine sucked and licked like he was on a mission to consume a popsicle before it melted, sparks coursed through Kurt's abdomen, up through his arms, into his head. His toes and fingers curled, and it took all Kurt's effort to remain upright in the seat, not to bring his knees up into himself and crush the head that was lavishing the best kind of attention on him.

Kurt's head slammed hard against the headrest, eyes closed, unable to contain his soundless moan. Blaine wasn't as delicate or as measured as he'd been on Friday; this was definitely not the work of someone trying to fine-tune an instrument. But Blaine's eagerness, his impulsiveness, his positively delightful attack on Kurt's cock, was bringing Kurt off faster than he'd ever felt before. Kurt wanted to make this feeling, this overwhelming urge to thrust (which he somehow managed to suppress this time around) last forever, just have Blaine sucking and licking and drooling hot, wet saliva down him for the rest of eternity.

But, in reality, it was going to only be a few minutes because Kurt could feel his orgasm coming faster than a bullet, and he only managed to tap Blaine's head twice before his hands gripped Blaine's hair, probably hurting him, and against his own better judgement, holding Blaine's head in place as Kurt's semen shot up and into the back of Blaine's throat, the heat threatening to knock him out completely.

The sensation of Blaine swallowing him down was unreal, so good, don't stop, so warm and Kurt sank his body back into the contour of the front seat. Blaine pulled off Kurt, who was sensitive and distracted, but with time became vaguely aware that Blaine was sputtering a little.

Kurt's vision slowly came into focus, he looked down at the bent over frame of his boyfriend, upper body still in his lap. As he regained some semblance of self-awareness, he tapped Blaine's shoulder, who had stopped struggling and looked up at Kurt with dreamy eyes. Kurt could see a fleck of come at the corner of Blaine's lips, mouthing _'Sorry sorry sorry_' as he moved his thumb to wipe it away, but Blaine stuck his tongue out and licked at the liquid, brimming with self-satisfaction and arousal.

"Don't apologize," Blaine said, playfully, "I knew what I was getting into. I'm okay! I knew that might happen; I still loved it. And we can work at it again, and again, and again…" and Blaine pushed himself up to pull Kurt into a lazy kiss. Kurt dipped his tongue experimentally into Blaine's mouth, tasting himself there. Kurt thought that it was weird, that the taste wasn't too pleasant, and the thought of his own come in his mouth freaked him out a bit. But mostly he was focused on how it had got there, how amazing Blaine had just made him feel, and he was butter.

As his mouth was freed, and he was able to pull up his pants, Kurt bent forward to grab his phone in front of him on the dash, needing to type _'We need to find a way of doing this without you choking,'_when a figure past the windshield, in front of the car, caught his eye. As his eyesight adjusted, Kurt momentarily froze, and then flung his entire body back against the back of his seat, hard enough to shake the entire car.

"Kurt, what is it-" Blaine asked as he whipped his head around to see what Kurt was so terrified of, unsure of how to react when he saw the tall, solid boy in front of them, carrying a gym bag and wearing a letterman's jacket.

Karofsky.

_Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. _But Kurt couldn't move from his position. His panic was a prison. Eyes wide, hands gripping the door handle and Blaine's shoulder so hard it was likely to leave a bruise, Kurt was visibly shaking.

"Shit, someone saw us," Blaine responded, also worried, but clearly not enough because this was Karofsky and he was going to kill them both and how could Blaine not know that? Oh right, because he didn't know that because Kurt had never told him because he'd wanted to keep these two opposite aspects of his world as separate as possible and that was difficult when they were staring each other in the eye.

"Hummel!" Karofsky shouted and they needed to get out of here. Kurt leaned over and turned the key to start the ignition, not aware the car was already on and he was merely revving the engine.

"Kurt! Be careful-" Blaine shouted, surprised, and also visibly freaked out.

"Woah! Hummel, stop!" Karofsky walked closer to the front of the car, but had jumped at the noise.

Kurt needed to get away, away from Karofsky, and get Blaine away from him too.

Had Karofsky seen Kurt, panting, exposed, kissing his boyfriend whose mouth was full of his come? Oh god, what if he had? What if he was going to kill them for it? Whatever Karofsky was thinking, it couldn't be good. Which is why Blaine needed to drive. They couldn't back out, there was nowhere to go; they'd trapped themselves between the walls; the only place was forward. Where Karofsky was blocking his escape. Again. _Motherfucker_.

Maybe Blaine could just drive over him…

"Kurt, you need to calm down! We're safe in the car." Blaine was gripping his shoulders as Kurt pounded on the dash, flailing about every which way. Blaine didn't understand, he didn't know. Kurt couldn't say anything, he could communicate that horrible things were about to happen. They were about to die.

"Hummel!" Karofsky had his hands out, wide, indicating he wasn't going anywhere. Run him down, Kurt's instincts were in total control. Get us out of here. "Hummel, I need to talk to you!"

_No no no._Kurt shook his head.

"Get out here, please. I won't hurt you, I promise." Karofsky growled.

_No._

"Who the hell is this guy, Kurt?" Blaine asked, much calmer than Kurt but still concerned. "Is he one of the guys who gave you a hard time?"

Kurt nodded profusely, _Yes, now drive,_panic overtaking him. He clutched his face in his fingers.

"Seriously, Hummel. It's okay!" Karofsky had leaned forward over the car, face only feet from Kurt's, with only the protection of a windshield between them. "You're scared of me, I get it. You can bring your…boyfriend…if you want. Like a bodyguard or something. But I need to talk to you."

'Scared' didn't do Kurt's shell-shock justice. After a moment, after the shock allowed room for other emotions, rage surfaced. And loathing. He hated Karofsky. For everything he'd done, and for trapping him now. He had no right; the red vision from when he'd kicked Karofsky on the bathroom floor seeping into him.

Annoyance was also prominent. After months of ignoring him, why did everyone suddenly need to talk?

"We don't have to. We can just stay in the car until he goes away," Blaine whispered, low so Karofsky couldn't hear it.

"Please?" Karofsky begged.

The desperate pitch, the whine, caught Kurt off-guard. Kurt had never heard Karofsky beg. Something was wrong.

It was then Kurt finally looked at Karofsky. Beyond all the frustration and desperation, beyond his aggressiveness in preventing Kurt from leaving, he looked sad.

But then the rage swelled up again. What the fuck did Karofsky have to be sad about? He'd gotten what he'd wanted; he'd made Kurt transfer, practically pushed him the hell out of that school. He'd stopped Kurt from expressing himself through fashion, so his tight-ass pants wouldn't tempt Karofsky, make him think the gay thoughts he'd so forcibly repressed. But now Kurt was back, at his school, probably reminding Karofsky of all that hate and resentment, and Kurt was going to be the target of it again…

"I won't hurt you," Karofsky repeated. "Please? I promise. I just want to talk."

Then, after a moment of pure loathing coursing through Kurt's veins, something strange, yet familiar, settled over Kurt.

_Enough._

He exhaled, and sunk back from his alert, upright position, into the contour of the leather seat behind him. His breathing became calmer, shallower, more confident.

He was tired of running, of being afraid. Of letting his fear conquer him, of backing down, of trying desperately to just escape. That wasn't him; even if it had been him for months. Something inside him snapped, and he realized he just couldn't do it anymore.

Kurt also reasoned with himself that if he didn't at least try and confront this, head on, this would be one more encounter that would end up haunting him too. He exhaled slowly.

"Do you want to go talk to him?" Blaine asked, sensing a shift in Kurt's demeanour.

Kurt closed his eyes, pressing his index finger to his temple. He didn't want to, but he was going to. Without looking at Blaine, he nodded.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

Kurt swallowed, opened his eyes and took in Blaine, the pressure of the offer settling in over the course of several seconds.

Kurt was now faced with a monumental decision; whether to include Blaine in the conversation, or leave him back in the car.

If Blaine was there, he could help him; two against one, even if Karofsky could take them both out if he wanted. But then that would be putting Blaine in danger, in Karofsky's line of fire. And possibly exposing Blaine to truths that Kurt really didn't want Blaine to hear.

But then Kurt thought of going out there, alone. Being in the same proximity as Karofsky, with no buffer. The small space of the car pressed in on Kurt and he felt like he couldn't breathe.

It was no contest; he didn't know whether or not he could do this alone, but he was certain he didn't want to. He wanted the strength to do this alone, but he also wanted the strength to ask for Blaine's help. He wanted to feel strong again.

Kurt made his choice; the far lesser of two evils. He grabbed Blaine's hand and nodded _'please, yes.'_

The cold wind bit Kurt's face as he opened the passenger door and stepped outside, away from the warmth and safety of the car. The sound of two doors clicking closed reverberated as he and Blaine slammed theirs at the same time. Kurt put his hands in his pockets, but refused to let his eyesight falter from Karofsky, who backed away from the car now, hands up defensively as well as attempting to calm, to signal no harm. Blaine slinked beside Kurt. They'd forgotten their gloves, so Blaine slipped his hand into Kurt's, squeezing tightly. Giving him courage. Strength.

He could do this, he could do this, he could do this.

"Is this your boyfriend?" Karofsky indicated towards Blaine. Kurt nodded. "Does he need to be here for this?" Karofsky side-eyed the shorter boy. "He could stand over there, away, if he wants to watch us or whatever." Karofsky was clearly looking for an out, a way to avoid saying whatever he needed to say in front of Blaine.

Kurt shook his head, eyes wide, pulling Blaine closer to him.

"I don't think he wants to be alone with you," Blaine said, confidently. "He wants me here for this. Right, Kurt?"

Kurt blinked affirmation.

Karofsky sighed, slumping back into himself, resigned. Kurt had never seen him look more docile. It was unnerving. He stared at their linked hands for a second, but he cleared his throat. "I was going to leave you two alone…keep walking…"

_Why didn't you? _Kurt thought, anger apparent on his face, he was sure. _Why were we so stupid? Why did we do this here, of all places?_

"…but then I saw your face while-," Karofsky shifted, voice cracking. "You didn't look like that when-,…I'm sorry, Kurt. I'm really, really sorry."

Kurt's eyes shot open, wide as they could. He couldn't help it, Kurt was floored.

He most certainly had not been expecting that. A monologue about how disgusting he was for getting a blowjob from a guy, sure. A threat to run away and never come back, never to remind Karofsky that fairies like him and Blaine existed, or else. But Kurt hadn't expected an apology. He was so stunned, he didn't know how to react. He didn't know how he felt; he was mostly numb, only Blaine's grip anchoring him to reality.

"It's okay, you don't have to say anything." Karofsky said after a pause, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

Kurt chanced a quick sideways glance at Blaine, whose eyes narrowed questioningly at that comment, but remaining silent.

"I just…wish I could have told you how sorry I was…before…I tried!" Karofsky said louder, defensively. He was cracking his knuckles, but then he looked away again. "Kinda. For a couple of weeks, actually. I did try a couple of times, but, every time I'd get near you, Hudson or Puckerman would show up and tell me to back off. It's like they were the Secret Service or some shit."

Through all Kurt's present confusion and anger, Kurt had never felt more affection for his step-brother and Puck than he did at those words. And they'd never told him about this; never hinted at anything. They let him remain blissfully ignorant to Karofsky pursuing him. In retrospect, it may have been dangerous, but all Kurt could think was that he would need to remember to thank them later, for leaving at least one stressor out of his already hellish life.

"And then they told me you transferred, saying it was my fault, that if I ever came near you, they'd team up and kick the shit out of me…I can't blame them, after what I did…"Karofsky looked genuinely ashamed. Guilty. If Kurt wasn't mistaken, there was a tear in his eye.

Kurt's body was still rigid. Blaine was too; still unwaveringly silent, but very present.

"My dad made me go see a shrink," Karofsky confessed, which clearly pained him, "After what happened, after what everyone was saying about you…I couldn't stop thinking that if they knew it was me…that I'm a fa-, sorry." Karofsky corrected himself. "Dr. Wilson says I need to stop using that word. He also said that I shouldn't talk to you, that it's not fair to you…but you're the only one I know who understands."

Kurt's anger surged forward again, his jaw set.

He was not doing this. Karofsky was not reaching out to him over some imaginary shared homosexual alliance. He did not get to tap that lifeline, not with Kurt. In Kurt's more lucid, less angry moments, he had mourned the lost potential for some sort of brotherhood between him and the closeted jock; they could have helped each other, he'd thought. Karofsky, with keeping Kurt's bullies at bay, and Kurt by helping Karofsky come to terms with himself. But that hadn't been possible for a while. Not after what Karofsky had nearly done to him. Kurt's face stiffened in the blistering cold.

"No one gets it. Like, I wasn't actually going to do it, but when my dad found me in my room…with his gun…I wasn't going to do it. I was just thinking about it, what it might be like, for all the pressure to just…stop… But then my dad took me to that punk-ass 'doctor'…I mean, you get it, right? Even if you weren't actually going to, you had to have at least thought about it." Karofsky was begging.

Kurt blanched at that. _No_.

No, Kurt had never thought about that. Through all the pain, through all the torture, through every humiliating moment and debilitating insults, his instinct had been to survive. Kurt Hummel was nothing if not resilient. Even if it had been exhausting. Everything he'd done, from keeping Karofsky's secret, to signing his voice away and escape to Dalton; everything had been to get through it, to live and get past it. To get to a place where he didn't have to put up with it. But to actually get there, eventually.

What Karofsky had almost done was the exact opposite of that. Kurt simply couldn't sympathize.

His eyes narrowed, letting the harsh, cold wind stir and do the talking for him.

How dare Karofsky even try this? Apologizing? Try and make Kurt feel sorry for him? When Karofsky and his actions had practically ruined Kurt's life?

Not a snowball's chance in hell.

Kurt was almost relieved. He felt his perception about Karofsky shift. Before, Karofsky had been this monster, this dark cloud that followed Kurt around, this perfect storm of anger and revulsion. But that was changing; Kurt was looking at Karofsky, almost seeing him for the first time. And what Karofsky really was, Kurt finally understood, was _pathetic_.

Kurt's back straightened, chin jutted out. To Karofsky's query about whether Kurt had contemplated suicide, he shook his head, with confidence.

_No, I'm better than that. Than you._

"Oh," Karofsky looked pained, rejected. He shuffled his feet, "I thought…with the way everyone was treating you…"

Blaine, after moments of standing by Kurt, silently, finally spoke, "Not everyone hates themselves for being gay, you know. Not everyone feels the need to spread homophobia just because they're afraid to admit the truth to themselves."

Blaine gave a sideways smile to Kurt. Kurt didn't return the smile, because Blaine didn't fully understand what was happening, but he let Blaine know that he appreciated him with a tight squeeze of his fingers.

Karofsky considered Blaine for a moment before speaking, "Wait, you haven't told him…the full story?"

Kurt remained pointedly silent.

"Shit, just…just know that I'm so fucking sorry. And that I'll leave you alone, if you ever come back. I can't take back what everyone says about you; I wish I could. I tried one day to tell Azimio that what I said wasn't true, but he just pretended not to hear me or something. But…I'm just…sorry."

And then Karofsky stood there, looking pleadingly at Kurt. If the mood between them hadn't been awkward before, the tension was certainly thick now.

It took Kurt a moment to realize that Karofsky was waiting for some sign of forgiveness. It took Kurt all of 10 seconds to resolve that he sure as shit wasn't going to get it.

Kurt kept his mouth tight; his posture uncompromising.

"Okay, so, I'll just…" he stepped away, "Oh, and, you probably shouldn't do that stuff here," Karofsky halted, pointing to both Kurt and Blaine, then the car. "If any of the other guys had seen you, they'd probably break your windows and, yeah…just…don't-, okay…" but Karofsky trailed off as he searched Kurt's eyes for something. Evidently crushed at not receiving it, he adjusted his gym bag and walked away.

After what seemed like an eternity of standing in the cold, Blaine broke the silence, "Are you okay?"

Kurt turned to Blaine, plastering on a smile, nodding, before his emotions overtook him, breaking the grin, devolving into choked sobbing. He cried. His body felt slack, like he was going to collapse.

Blaine caught him.

Twenty minutes later, they were seated on the steps outside Figgins' office, only the faint sound of music echoing throughout the empty hallways. Kurt curled in on himself, back against the wall, and Blaine seated more formally, a few steps above him, out of Kurt's vision.

Not looking away from his phone as he typed, Kurt told Blaine about Karofsky. He told him the whole story; not the safe-for-work, family edition he'd edited for mass-consumption.

He told Blaine about being trapped in the bathroom, about Karofsky forcing himself on Kurt, about Karofsky's lips, his hands…how Kurt had kicked the shit out of him and how good it had felt…how that joy had been short lived, how once Karofsky's lies had spread to the whole school, Kurt was lower than an untouchable. How he hadn't told anyone out of fear that Karofsky would retaliate, how heavy that burden had been. How ashamed he was to be telling Blaine now.

Blaine remained conspicuously silent through it all; which was in itself a feat, because it had taken Kurt much longer than normal to type it all out. When Kurt was finished, he glanced back upwards at Blaine, who was trying desperately to mask himself with calmness and strength, reliability. But Kurt could see, Blaine was distraught; he didn't know what to say.

The realization dawned slowly on Kurt, staring at him; Blaine was not some magic erase, not the answer to all of his problems. He'd known that, of course, but in that moment, Kurt got it. He felt empty. Childish.

Eventually, Blaine spoke, "I…get why you didn't tell people, even if I don't agree with it. Because that asshole doesn't owe you just an apology. He owes you undying gratitude that you didn't press charges. He nearly raped you, Kurt."

Kurt tensed at the word; it was something he'd only allowed himself to even think in his worst moments. To hear it spoken aloud…his face cracked again, and the tears he'd been fighting back welled at his eyes. He brushed them away.

Blaine extended a hand to pat him on the shoulder, but retreated before he made contact.

"But…why didn't you tell me?" Blaine asked, upset. "Oh god, Kurt! Do you-? God, I was so stupid. I wouldn't have pushed you, if I'd known. When you freaked out, if I'd known, I wouldn't have gone down on you. I wouldn't have made you feel like it was 'get over this or we're over.' I would have…why didn't you tell me?"

_'I didn't want you looking at me the way you are now.' _Kurt pulled in tighter on himself.

"How?" Blaine pleaded.

_'Like I'm broken. Like I needed protection, or pity. I don't, and I won't accept it. I wanted to get over it; bringing it up would be dwelling on it.'_

"No, Kurt. That's not..." Blaine pulled his knees in and dropped his body down a step. "I don't 'pity' you. What I'm feeling is anger that my boyfriend was treated so horribly, and concern that he didn't trust me enough to tell me. I know this is hard. I thought I'd known what you'd been through, because I thought I'd been through it too, but I had no idea. And, I'm just, I'm so sorry you've been dealing with all of this alone."

Kurt bit his lip as Blaine let his words hang for a few moments. He was terrified to ask, it made him feel so small, but he needed to know.

_'You're not repulsed by me?' _Kurt typed with great effort, finger hovering above the send button for a moment before pressing down.

Blaine looked at him with incredulity, "What?"

The things Kurt had been thinking in his darkest moments, that he couldn't admit to himself, they poured off of him, and into his fingers. He was breathing heavily, nearly hysterical with tears, when he sent it.

_'That he thought about me that way. That he had his hands on me, and his lips. That he nearly defiled me. That he might have, regardless. That, even though I escaped with my virtue intact, I let him continue to haunt me for so long.'_

"Kurt, stop. Don't talk like that, that's wrong," Blaine shook his head, worry thick in his voice. "This is not your fault. Okay? How could I ever think any of those things about you? I don't. I love you; I just want you to be safe."

Kurt wanted to believe those words; he did. But it was difficult to fight months' worth of self-doubt, of hatred.

But Blaine continued, "I want you to feel like you can tell me anything, especially the hard stuff. God, I have this overwhelming urge to go kick his ass," but Kurt shook his head profusely at that; kicking Karofsky's ass hadn't done Kurt any good, he was terrified for Blaine. "Don't worry, I won't. But I really want to..."

Kurt couldn't help it; he despised violence, but he was deeply moved by Blaine's protective admission.

"Can I ask…does all this…have anything to do with your…mutism?" Blaine looked, questioningly.

Kurt didn't know how to respond, what he could say, but for the first time he had the urge to tell Blaine everything. He chanced a half-truth,_ 'It's part of it, yes.'_

Blaine sighed, but he didn't press on. He seemed satisfied, and he changed topics, "Please, just know that you can tell me anything. That I love you, and I really just want to be with you. Nothing you've told me is going to change that, okay?"

After a moment, Kurt crinkled his face, clenched his fists, and let his tears flow freely. He was so overwhelmed. He needed to tell Blaine that he finally believed him, that his words wrapped around him like a blanket.

Blaine hadn't rejected him. Kurt had revealed his deepest, darkest secret to Blaine, and Blaine was standing by him, telling him it was okay, that he still loved Kurt through it all. Kurt was laid bare before him, and Blaine wasn't flinching.

Kurt could feel a shift, like gears slowly settling into place. He was warm. Anxious, but warm. He felt safe for the first time in months.

Blaine reached down and pulled him into a tight, affectionate, caring embrace. "Is this okay? Can I hug you?" Kurt nodded against his shoulder, clutching desperately, shifting his head into the crevice of Blaine's neck.

Blaine pulled back, gently pushing aside Kurt's bangs, fingers lightly grazing Kurt's cheeks to wipe away the tears. "We're going to take this slower, okay? No more pushing. I love you Kurt, and part of that means I'll be whatever you need. What you really need."

Kurt looked down, nodding through his sobs. Blaine looked momentarily like he was going to kiss him, but thought better of such an intimate gesture, given everything that had transpired. Instead he opted for rubbing Kurt's back, slowly, in circles. He whispered in a sing-song voice, calm, smiling "We've got company."

Kurt refocused his gazed over Blaine's shoulder, seeing Finn and Rachel approach them slowly, cautiously.

"So sorry, didn't mean to interrupt…" Rachel started, sounding genuine.

"No, it's okay," Blaine composed himself. He always did this when someone other than Kurt was in immediate proximity; it was a gift Kurt wished he had as he tried to suppress his sobs. "Kurt and I were just talking, but we're done for now. Everything's okay." Blaine stood, turning to Finn. Kurt followed his motion, brushing away the tears with the arm of his jacket.

"Yeah, well…" Finn started, "practise is over."

Blaine nodded, "Yeah, I should get you home, and then we need to pick Kurt's stuff up and get him back to Dalton. It's getting late."

Kurt smiled lightly; it was okay. They'd talk more later via text.

Besides, Kurt could use the distraction as a break, let him organize his thoughts. He had a lot to think about. About how Blaine hadn't run from this truth; and how, maybe, Blaine wouldn't run away from the other thing that Kurt had bottled up inside himself for so long. But they'd already touched on so much today; Kurt didn't want to push his luck. They both needed time.

Kurt wrapped his arm around Blaine's as they, Rachel and Finn walked down the hallway, back to the parking lot, to head home. His step a little lighter than it had been in a long, long time.

From the landing above the stairwell, Sue clenched her fists, silent but unable to contain the rage bubbling within.


	12. According To My Ultimate Design

**Chapter 10 – Things Are Working Out According to My Ultimate Design**

"Ladies, if you could save us all some time and explain to me why you're both here in the dead of night, well, that would be great."

Gazes averted, arms crossed, bodies firmly defensive, the two ex-cheerleaders shifted uncomfortably in their chairs under the angry eye of their former coach. Eventually, one broke the silence,

"It wasn't what it looked like-" Santana started, but was immediately cut off by Sue calmly raising a finger.  
>"I'm gonna stop you right there. This is not about the Sapphic love-fest I just walked in on; for god's sake, half of the faculty knows to stay out of the Home-Ec closet after sundown if they want to avoid catching you two bumping similars. Though, I must say, Tits McGee, it's a shame I waited this long to fetch you there. Had I known you were still that flexible with those two water balloons hanging off your chest, I wouldn't have been so quick to bottom-pyramid you."<p>

Santana narrowed her eyes, but folded in on herself more. Brittany's deer-caught-in-headlights expression only intensified. After several beats, during which neither girl offered anything, Sue moved from her leaning position, to hunching forward on her desk, grasping each elbow in the opposite hand, her calm demeanour unwavering. A hawk circling, waiting before it dove down to snatch its prey.

"No one's got anything to say?" Sue slammed her hands down on the table, eliciting a flinch from both girls. She removed her glasses, fiercely dangling it in the hand she used to point accusatorily between the two of them. "I charged you two with a mission; not a monumental task, mind you, given your incredibly feeble mental capabilities, but a mission nonetheless. You were instructed to monitor Porcelain's interaction with that pint-sized pipsqueak, and report back to me anything resembling progress towards a relationship. Now, anything to confess?"

Brittany looked to Santana, who sneaked a glance back. Understanding the severity of the situation, Santana decided if she had any chance of coming out of this unscathed, she needed to regain her strong, bitchy demeanour. Back straightening, she crossed her legs and adjusted her facial expression accordingly. Under Sue's intense glare, however, she couldn't maintain it while keeping eye contact, so she snorted, rolled her eyes and focused on a cheerleading trophy at her side while admitting, "We tried to keep tabs on them; there's only so much we can do from outside an all-boys school. Brittany even hooked up with a Dalton sophomore named Chuck just so she could sneak into his Facebook and creep on that Blaine kid's wall."

"He posts a lot of Katy Perry videos," Brittany nodded.

"Nothing," Santana continued. "No relationship status update. No shared links. Hell, as far as we knew, they didn't even talk to each other."

"Kurt can't talk Santana," Brittany corrected.

"I meant online…" Santana snapped, then caught herself. "Anyway, we were monitoring the situation. And then Artie mentioned that he overheard Tina eavesdropping on Rachel talking to Puck about Kurt bringing 'the competition' to her house party last Saturday. Berry totally didn't invite us, the troll, but we broke in through her bathroom window and crashed. It was too late, though. Hummel kissed him."

Santana swore she saw red flare up behind her ex-coaches eyes at that, and before the full fury was brought down she quickly added. "But nothing happened! They kissed like 10 times and Hummel still couldn't speak! The curse is still in effect. You shoulda seen that kiss; it was all kinds of wanky. We figured you had an extra clause or something in there, because if that didn't break the spell…"

Santana trailed off. Brittany was legitimately scared, clutching her book bag tightly into her stomach. It took all of Santana's willpower not to wrap her arms around her.

After a moment, Sue asked, "So, let me get this straight. Those two have been physical for two days, and you didn't think it important for your health to inform me?"

"Two?" Brittany looked more confused than usual. She started counting on her fingers. "Friday…Wednesday, wait…no…carry the one…nine! It's been nine days." She held up eight fingers and a thumb, beaming, clearly proud. "I'm totally getting out of remedial math."

Santana slapped her head against her forehead, and Brittany gave her a questioning look before Sue growled in anger. "You meant last Saturday?" Sue pursed her fingers on the desk before her and took a deep breath.

"I'm going to explain something to you ladies. I don't write contracts that I'm not absolutely positive I'm going to come out on top with. I had thought that sending Porcelain to Dalton was an investment in the future of the Cheerios, but I hadn't thought until tonight, until my naiveté and your overwhelming stupidity was made clear, that it was actually a gamble. That contract stipulates that in order to break the spell, and ultimately void any consequences for not doing so, he must receive a kiss of 'true love.' Something most of your hormone-addled teenage brains simply aren't capable of yet."

Santana moved to object, but Sue cut her off, "Oh, please. I know you think you know what love is; you have all these feelings and urges and secrets and online poetry and twitter updates with Top 40 singles lyrics. The entire tattoo-removal economy exists simply because you feel so many things, so intensely for such short periods of time and you think that's love. Sorry Sweet Cheeks, it ain't. Real love, "true" love, is more than grinding in the back seat of your parents' Chevy.

"It comes from time, and trust. Neither of which I thought Porcelain capable of with only a month to spare and the inability to communicate the truth. It would appear, from what I overheard from the one-sided conversation he was having with that greased-up boy wonder, that somehow these two are the exception. Had I known that he was carrying around the burden he confessed to what is clearly his boyfriend…" Sue almost sounded sad, regretful, but she pushed it away, "well, I would have written him an entirely different contract, for one thing…but the point is, from what I've seen, if these two aren't 'truly' in love yet, they are _dangerously _close."

Sue's tone darkened. "And you two kept it from me. This is going to cost you ladies, dearly. If I can't rely on you two to provide me with the intel I need to destroy glee club, then you're no good to me. I'm invoking the penalties-"  
>"NO!" Santana shrieked.<p>

"Please don't!" Brittany begged.

"We'll do anything. Anything. We're sorry. You want us to kill Berry? We'll kill Berry," Santana promised.

"Nope!" Sue shouted over the desperate commotion. "No, you ladies had your chance."

"But Kurt had more time to make Blaine fall in love than we thought!" Brittany shouted.

Both Santana and Sue quieted immediately, glancing questioningly over at the blonde.

"Excuse me?" Sue asked. "What do you mean?"

"If I tell you, will not make us fat and ugly?" Brittany pleaded. "I don't care, but I love Santana and Santana doesn't want that. And I couldn't stand it if Santana didn't love me anymore because I had freckles."

Santana's heart dropped; she tried to reach out a comforting hand but flinched under Sue's gaze.

"I'll consider it. You two twits aren't really in a position to negotiate." Sue shot back.

Santana was baffled. She had no idea what Brittany was talking about, but she was praying that it would be enough to save them both.

"Okay, so" Brittany started, pulling out her phone, "I've been starting this new Youtube series called 'Fondue for Two.' It stars my cat Lord Tubbington; or it will once we find him a trailer big enough." Santana rolled her eyes, and Sue signalled for Brittany to get to the point. "Anyway, it's a gossip show, and nothing's more scandalous than the whole Sam-Quinn-Finn-Rachel situation right now. This really sweet guy who takes computer science agreed to show me how to set up a camcorder and hack into people's emails if I showed him my boobs. I've got all four of them on my phone here. Rachel's inbox was super easy to break into; her password was 'My Headband.' Love that song."  
>Brittany scrolled through her phone. "So I've been watching them all send stuff back and forth to each other, but tonight, while I was waiting for Santana and her sweet lady kisses, I saw this sitting in Rachel's inbox between like fifty replies from the 'Barbara Streisand Fan Club' message board."<p>

Brittany handed the phone over into Coach Sylvester's waiting hand. Sue put on her glasses and looked down on the tiny screen, its light reflecting her angled features more sharply than ever. She read.

_'No, Rachel. I wasn't telling him about our kiss after Sectionals. Though now, I think I'm going to. As much as it pains me to admit, I think you may have been onto something; if I'm honest with him about being in love with him for months before he remembers us meeting, and he realizes that I was the guy he was in love with all those months too, it may be enough to break the spell. I just don't know how to explain the whole voice-issue; the one thing he does remember is that I sang to him. How the hell am I going to get around that? Even if I could tell him directly, he's still going to be confused and possibly angry. You've managed to get people to love you despite your selfish behaviour and general failings as a decent human being. How do I do this without freaking him out and pushing him away?  
>-Kurt'<em>

Sue placed the phone before her, trying to remain calm, but it was evident from Santana's point of view that this wasn't going to last. Sue's eyes darted wildly, and she seemed to be muttering to herself. When Sue's mumbling finally became audible, Santana could piece together, "…didn't know…going to lose this…idiot girls…no, no it's okay. Yes. Brilliant. Yes, I can use this. I can intervene. I'm going to have to break the rules to do it, it'll be putting everything at risk, but I can fix this…"

Finally, Sue seemed to remember that there were still other people in the room. She snapped out of her frantic rambling and looked angrily between the two of them. She handed Brittany back her phone.

"You're absolved, blondie. You," she pointed to Santana without looking as she began riffling through her desk like mad, "will be feeling the full force of your contract's penalties starting the day after Regionals. I can't tip off New Directions that something's up." As Sue stood to rise, Santana began to cry, and Brittany began to beg.  
>"No! No, no, I did everything you asked. Please don't do this to me!"<p>

"She will be so sad, please don't punish Santana!"

"Get out of my office!" Sue yelled. "Go! I now have to clean up both of your messes and it isn't going to be pretty."

Santana leapt around the table and clung to Sue's leg, crying and pleading. Sue stood motionless as Brittany tried to pull her off until eventually Sue gave a sharp shake and Santana flung backwards.

"Please! Please!" she shouted, bawling as Brittany dragged her backwards into the hallway. "I'd rather die than have stretch-marks! Please!" But Sue strode over and slammed the door shut.

She had a lot to do before tomorrow.

Kurt sat in the Dalton library, looking over his letter one last time. He wondered if the eloquence of his calligraphy distracted from the message, and if, perhaps, he should try re-writing it one more time in more practical font. He ultimately landed on not doing so, as this was the fourteenth attempt at expressing himself, and the fourth to do so successfully. He also decided that confessions such as these deserved the utmost care and attention to detail, and the delicate loops in his "L"s would be the best way to convey how important this was to him.

Yes, Kurt was nervous. Perhaps more nervous than he'd been in a moment when his well-being wasn't immediately threatened. This was his heart that was exposed, and it was in very real danger of being crushed.

Kurt was still shocked down to his core over what had occurred the previous night. He had never intended to tell Blaine his past with Karofsky, and he was still reeling from the potential consequences of Blaine knowing the truth. Maybe Blaine had just been nice; he was a good guy, after all. Maybe his words had merely been to comfort, but Kurt was no longer a viable pursuit in Blaine's eyes, and he didn't have the heart to tell Kurt in the moment.

Kurt hadn't given him a chance. He'd switched his phone into airplane mode as soon as he'd gotten home; so any texts he'd received from Blaine he'd automatically avoided. He couldn't focus on the fallout from that, nor the contents of Karofsky's apology. Kurt had thought that outing his tormentor might have resulted in his own death; he'd never considered it could have ended with Karofsky pulling the trigger on himself. Kurt hadn't processed those thoughts yet; he couldn't, they were too heavy, and didn't belong at the forefront of his mind now. Not when he had a mission to complete.

He'd decided that, on the assumption that Blaine still wanted him, he needed to be truthful about their post-sectionals encounter. Not that he wanted to; he needed to. If it had been up to Kurt, that truth may never have seen the light of day. Neither would the truth about his almost-rape; but Kurt hadn't had a choice about that. No matter what went down, whether he'd included Blaine in the conversation with Karofsky or not, he would have asked questions or it would have been brought up the next time Kurt flinched while they were making out.

He had _had _to tell Blaine about Karofsky. He _didn't have_to tell Blaine about their first kiss; which is exactly why he needed to. Because being honest about that, when it came from Kurt wanting to be honest and not having it demanded of him, that would prove to himself, to Blaine, to that stupid goddamn contract that, yes, this was true love. He loved Blaine enough to be completely honest about this and have some confidence that Blaine would love him back enough for it to be "true." If Blaine hadn't run at Kurt's biggest secret being dragged out into the open, perhaps he'd listen to Kurt's second biggest secret with the same calmness and acceptance. Kurt wanted time for both of them to adjust; but time was not a luxury he had when Regionals was days away.

Kurt's suspicions about the contract had been confirmed when he'd tried to write out the letter on the infamous Warbler notepad. He could write about Sectionals, he could write about Blaine being nearly passed out on the floor. He could even go into detail about the scarf; how he'd saved up for weeks to buy it and the colour of the bag it had come in.

But anytime he tried to mention singing, or his voice, or the spell, his pen would suddenly stop working. He tried a pencil, but the lead would snap. He tried typing it out on his phone but his keys would stick. The school computers would freeze. He had tried carving it into a desk, but his steel compass from math class broke. Even the little Morse code he'd remembered from elementary school was useless; as soon as he'd pounded on the desk, banging as hard as he could, the vibrations became as silent as his voice-box. He simply could not tell Blaine, or anyone who didn't know, for that matter, that he had once been a crystal clear counter-tenor that had made a handsome crooner fall in love with him just by the sound of his voice.

So he was relying on the other details, and as much honesty as he could muster, to confess. He was afraid, but at the same time, he really wasn't. If he knew Blaine, and he thought he knew him pretty well by now, Blaine would be confused, and upset, but ultimately, he'd forgive Kurt his failings and find the whole thing cosmically romantic. _I hope_.

He looked down at his final draft.

_"Dearest Blaine,  
>After the events of last night, and your acceptance of secrets that I had not thought anyone would ever accept, it pains me to admit that I still have not been totally honest with you. Even in this letter, I am still holding back a few truths I would desperately love to share with you, but for reasons I cannot yet communicate, I am unable. Just know that, in time, I will be able to explain properly and all will make sense. Until then, please believe, no matter how unbelievable, that what I tell you is the truth.<br>I was not honest when I confronted you about the scarf in your breast pocket. I knew where it had come from, because it came from me. I fell in love with you during your performance at Sectionals, and I was sent to spy on The Warblers as our competition for Regionals, a task I happily accepted hoping I would meet you. I was the boy who found you on the ground in front of the grand staircase; you were as drunk then as you were at Rachel's party. You fell down the stairs and cut your wrist, and when David went to fetch you some aid, I tied my scarf around your wrist to stop the bleeding. You thought you were dreaming. You said I was an "angel." You kissed me, and to use your phrasing, it 'blew my mind.' Like a coward, I ran away before I was caught by one of your less inebriated peers. I deeply regret running before I had the chance to tell you my name, as it would have saved us both so much confusion and time.  
>More occurred during this exchange that I cannot relay now, but I hope that what I have told you here is enough for you to believe that I am telling the truth. And, if you believe me, you are not so angry at me for withholding it as to never speak to me again. But even if you are, I will still love you.<br>Come what may.  
>~Kurt Elizabeth Hummel'<em>

Kurt had written many love letters in his life; many of them confessions he had never intended to send, many of them to Finn long before they were step-brothers. This was different. This was the first real one he'd written, that he intended to give, and it had to be perfect. After what must have been a hundred inspections, Kurt particularly proud of his evading the curse and dropping the hint about the song they had sung, he deemed that it was indeed ready. He smiled, suppressing his shakes.

From his bag, Kurt pulled out a bottle of cinnamon scented mist and spritzed the paper before him before carefully shutting the leather bound cover of the notebook. He didn't want to risk it crinkling on the way to Warbler's practise. Which, by his clock, was in 10 minutes. He wrapped up his things, hooked his bag over his shoulder and the notebook over his arm and headed out of the library, down the hallways to the choir room.

On his way, he caught up to Jeff, who gave him a winking smile and knowing nudge. Except Kurt didn't know what for and Jeff elaborated.  
>"Shouldn't you be more excited?" Jeff asked hurriedly as the both strode down the hallway, Kurt having to step double-time to keep up.<br>Kurt shook his head in confusion.

"Didn't you get Blaine's email?" Kurt shook his head again, intrigued; this is what he got for keeping his phone off. "About the 'Big Announcement'?" Kurt's eyes shot open.

What announcement? What could Blaine possibly want to announce to all the Warblers? Had Kurt been so caught up in his own drama that he'd been completely ignoring any of Blaine's show choir concerns? He had to remember to be a more attentive boyfriend in the future.

"Oh, yeah! You hadn't transferred when he…last time he made a 'Big Announcement' at a Warbler's meeting, we ended up performing to woo a guy he liked at the Gap. He's kind of a show off that way. I wonder who we'll be serenading this time, eh, Kurt?" Jeff smiled playfully and nudged him again.

Kurt felt light-headed. Even though Kurt and Blaine hadn't gone public with their relationship, they hadn't been entirely discreet either, and he'd been certain everyone in the Warblers knew about them. However, if Blaine told everyone, then it would be…official. Kurt's first instinct was to cringe because he knew how his peers back at McKinley would react to such news. But then he had to remind himself that he'd transferred for this very reason; so he could be out, and proud, and dating the boy he loved and hold his hand while walking down the hallway without anyone batting an eyelash. With his friends and schoolmates being happy, or at least, indifferent. From Jeff's reaction, they expected it. And were not afraid to show how excited it made them. Kurt became astutely aware that he'd been the subject of positive gossip for a change. That was…interesting.

Then his heart swelled. Blaine was going to announce, to everyone, that he loved him. It had been one thing to hear it before every kiss, every time chipping away at his heart. So soon, after Blaine had found out Kurt's deep dark secret? It was odd, but maybe this was how Blaine wanted to reassure Kurt that he'd meant what he said about being what Kurt really needed. Maybe this was Blaine's contribution to the honesty pot; Kurt was going to come clean to Blaine, and Blaine was going to come clean to everyone. And it would be true love. And they would kiss. And then the note tucked away under Kurt's arm would make sense.

And, if he managed to break the spell, Kurt would _sing _the confession to Blaine himself. Kurt picked up his pace.

Blaine tried to maintain the poised, self-aware attitude he was known for, and anyone who didn't know him better may have fallen for it. But as he leaned against the armrest of the couch, watching the Warblers file in quickly, them whispering amongst themselves in animated but hushed tones, shooting him inquisitive gazes…he couldn't help it. He was nervous.

But Blaine's utter joy shone through when he looked at him. He caught the beautiful blue eyes looking back longingly at him, thrill at the situation only marred by the anxiousness obvious on the delicate features at such a heavy, public announcement. Looking at the boy he loved, the boy he'd waited forever for, who was looking back at him and communicating wordlessly that he clearly felt the same, it filled Blaine with confidence. It filled him with warmth, and gave him the strength he needed to push on.

"Warblers, if you could quiet down," Blaine instructed and they mostly complied, with only a few taps of Wes's gavel necessary to enforce the silence. Wes shot Blaine a knowing smile, and Blaine nodded his gratitude. "Thank you. I know this is highly unorthodox, given that we are less than a week away from performing at Regionals. And I would never want to distract us from being our best during the competition, but this could not wait."

Blaine looked around the room; he had every one of his fellow Warbler's rapt attention. He took a deep breath, shook off his nerves, and continued. "Simply put, I'm in love." The room erupted in gasps and whispered approval. Blaine looked to the council; all three head Warblers were smiling brightly. He knew they'd be happy for him. Though not as happy as Blaine was for himself.

"I know, I know! People may say it's too soon; that he's only just transferred and, as far as most adults might think, we've only really just met. But it doesn't feel that way. It honestly feels like we've finally met. That our souls have been separated for too long and we've been reunited at last."

There were a few giggles and chuckles spilling out of his peers' mouths, but most were silent and smiling. Blaine was too overcome with emotion to care if they found it cheesy, or his confession too 'dramatically romantic'; that wasn't the point of this.

"I want to use these feelings, this amazing sense of love and connection that feels like it's overflowing in me, that we both have, and I want to harness it to enhance our performance at Regionals. Warblers, while I have appreciated the faith you have given me as lead soloist in so many of our numbers, if you'll let me be so bold, I'd like to propose…a duet."

The commotion that broke at that word hadn't surprised him, but he couldn't help jumping a little at the noise. Wes banged his gavel again, and as the room quieted down. David leaned forward and tentatively asked, "A duet with who, Blaine?"

"With the love of my life, of course!" Blaine responded, obviously.

"But…" Thad began, "I thought he couldn't…can he sing?"

Blaine laughed. "Can he ever!" He turned and stared into the beautiful blue eyes, extending a hand to signal to the slender boy rising from the seat beside the window, nearly losing his train of thought as he watched the sunlight refract in his hair, causing it to shimmer a breathtaking hue of blonde.

"Vance, baby, sing for the boys and show them what you can do."

Vance glanced slowly around the room, smirking a sexy, confident smirk, clearly intending to win them over. He delicately pressed his fingers in front of his chest, as if praying, but he needed no intervention from on high for the notes escaping his lips to sound divine.

A wordless melody, Vance's high, clear tone reverberated around the room, wrapping around Blaine and making him feel warmer and more euphoric than he could ever remember feeling in his entire life. Through the lightness, the warmth, Blaine's only concern was that Vance's voice would affect everyone as deeply as it had him; that they would fall in love with him as quickly and as hard as Blaine had and he'd have to compete for Vance's affection. But as soon as Blaine thought it, the notion was abolished. Vance loved him, as completely as he loved Vance. Blaine was in heaven.

Blaine's trance of love and desire was broken briefly when he heard a loud thud from the opposite side of the room. Blaine managed to look away from the source of his ecstasy briefly to see a fellow Warbler, eyes and mouth wide, face streaked in tears. That made sense; Vance's vocals were most definitely that moving, but the look on the boy's face was not one of joy. If Blaine hadn't known better, he'd swear that it was a look of disbelief, maybe of horror. But that wasn't possible; no one could be unhappy when the glorious voice was echoing throughout the room.  
>Blaine had to remember for a second who'd distracted him from his enjoyment of his baby's performance. He saw another boy, who Blaine remembered was named Jeff, standing next to the disrupting Warbler and watched him bend over to pick up the leather-bound notebook the teary-eyed male must have dropped on the floor, which must have caused the commotion. Blaine had to think for a moment, digging deep through a haze of blurry memories to recall the name of the Warbler's secretary.<p>

_Kurt_, Blaine remembered, vaguely. As Vance took a breath between bars, Blaine felt another, different happy feeling surge forward. _Kurt's my friend. Kurt's happy for me. That's why he's so overcome with emotion. Kurt's such a good friend. _Blaine smiled at Kurt, who didn't return it, but Blaine had more pressing matters to attend to, so he pushed himself off the couch and around to stand beside his new beau, slipping his fingers into Vance's hand, gripping it firmly at his side.

"As you can hear, gentlemen, we have found ourselves a beautiful counter-tenor that will give us the edge on the competition at Regionals. We've always said that it's a shame we couldn't incorporate some of the higher registers into our arrangements; now we can feature them! And Vance is sure to charm the audience! Just as he charmed me so many months ago when I thought he was a dream, and as he charmed me this morning as I heard him singing on his way out of the main office. He's a new transfer to Dalton, and I think giving him this part in the duet would be the perfect opportunity to show him that we welcome to our club!"

Vance pulled Blaine closer as the room exploded. Not even Wes's gavel could silence the crowd. The noise must have scared poor, delicate, quiet Kurt, because he ran from the room, shock still etched into his features.

Blaine shrugged this off however, as he started getting weird questions from both his fellow junior members as well as the council. Silly, unimportant questions. Questions like, "Where'd he come from?" which Blaine had just answered, and "who the hell is he?" which was stupid because his name is Vance, and "weren't you dating Kurt?" which was just downright offensive because even though Kurt was gay, Blaine remembered now, that was no reason to assume that he and Blaine were dating.

Then Wes, who didn't look as happy for Blaine as Blaine thought he should, said carefully, "Blaine, despite everyone else's objections, which I would like to add that I share, you simply cannot suggest that we re-arrange our competition numbers at the last minute to incorporate the voice of someone who has not even been inducted into the club!"

Blaine felt a brief dip in his otherwise unstoppable happiness, and he needed to make himself clear, "If you are unwilling to change just one number, you will be forced to change them all. As your lead vocalist, it would be wise to remember that without me, you have nothing. And if you aren't willing to incorporate Vance into a duet with me, then I will have no choice but to pull out of the club. My boyfriend comes first." He looked to Vance, beautiful Vance, who blinked reassurance with his gorgeously long eyelashes that made Blaine swoon. This was the right thing to do.

"Blaine you are being completely unreasonable…and unfair…to us…to Kurt…" David offered, pleadingly.

Why was everyone so focused on Kurt? What did Kurt have to do with anything? Blaine was with Vance. Vance was the one. Why couldn't they just be happy for him?

Blaine turned to Vance again and started fingering the scarf that he'd tied so delicately around Vance's wrist. Blaine's blood quickened at the memory; he'd been bursting at the seams when he'd heard that angelic voice, finally putting a beautiful, cherubic face to the siren that had hypnotized him when his vision had been blurry months ago. When Vance had recognized him back, had crooked a finger seductively, and told them he thought it was time they'd had a proper introduction, Blaine had dropped to one knee and kissed Vance's hand with all the love he had in his heart. He'd pulled the scarf from his pocket and he'd begged Vance to be his, and Vance, being the one, his destiny, hadn't hesitated for a second. They'd spent the day, skipping class, just staring at each other in the empty choir room. There wasn't any need for words today; they'd have a lifetime for that. Today had been about basking in each other's presence, tracing patterns on each other, with their fingers and their mouths, joyful that they'd been reunited at last.

"Baby, I'm not sure they understand. It's you and I, or it's neither of us." Blaine had firmly decided.

Vance leaned forward and gave him a loving peck on the cheek. Blaine felt himself melt. Vance then added, in that breathy, seductive, high-pitched voice, "Of course, honey. Stick to your guns. They'll come around."

Blaine took in his surroundings. He didn't appreciate his fellow Warblers' looks of anger and confusion. As he argued with the room some more, Blaine realized that they're biggest point of contention, bigger than adding a new number, was the impact this was going to have on Kurt. Blaine didn't understand it, but if it would put their minds at ease, he was going to go grab Kurt, his friend, right now and get him to clear up this whole misunderstanding.

A rush of wind and a loud bang reverberated off the walls as Kurt slammed the door shut to his dorm room. He dashed across the room and leapt onto his bed, face first into his pillow, his choked sobbing drowned out by the fluffy object. His body was frantic, hysteric, but it was nothing compared to his mind.

He couldn't breathe. Through his sharp intakes of breath, through his crying, he simply could not get enough oxygen into his lungs. He couldn't calm down, though, couldn't take a moment to allow his chest to rise and fall normally. He was crushed; the weight of everything pressing down on him and preventing him from breathing. Somewhere he was aware that the situation was getting desperate, that his body and his brain couldn't be starved for much longer, but he was powerless to remedy the situation.

"What's wrong, man?" Kurt heard from across the room. He turned his heard, blinking through his tears to see his roommate Dwayne looking at him, confused if not genuinely concerned.

Kurt grabbed a pillow and hurled it at the slack jawed stoner, missing and knocking over his bong. "Dude, what the fuck?" Dwayne yelled after flinching, but Kurt soundlessly screamed _'Get out! Get out! GET OUT!_'

Dwayne stood angrily, the most emphatic movement Kurt had ever seen him make, and picked up his bong before too much of the water spilt out on the floor. "Calm the fuck down! Holy shit, if you broke my baby, I'm going to-" but he was cut off when Kurt threw another pillow, this time connecting with Dwayne's head.

"Whatever, man." Dwayne set his bong on his desk and stormed out of the room, fuming but in no mood to get into a fight. "I'm gonna go get some food from the caf; you've got fifteen minutes to take a chill pill." But Kurt was already face down again, hands clutching into his sheets, arm crooked around his face, crying with abandon.

He'd sprinted back from the choir room, needing to get out, get away, be anywhere else. He'd ran until his feet had carried him here, because his mind had been otherwise occupied with coherent questions like _Why? _And _How?_

He thought he'd known heartbreak. He thought he'd known agony. But nothing had compared to the sensation of a tonne of bricks collapsing in on him when he'd heard Blaine say another boys' name during his big announcement. Or the second load of bricks that had crushed him when that blonde motherfucker opened his mouth and sang. With his voice. Not a voice that sounded like his; Kurt had recorded himself enough times to know his pitch, his inflection, his tone.

Whoever the fuck 'Vance' was, he'd stolen Kurt's voice. Kurt was coherent enough to understand that. What he couldn't process was how Vance had managed to steal his boyfriend. How Blaine was so entirely smitten with a boy he'd met that day.

How Blaine had looked at Kurt briefly and there was only a hint of recognition there.

Kurt had felt like his world was ending. The room had spun and spun and he had only been faintly aware that people had been looking at him. And that bastard imposter had kept on singing, smiling, like nothing was wrong. Like he didn't care that he was blatantly defiling Kurt's property. And Kurt was powerless to stop it.

Kurt slammed his clenched fists into the mattress. The mattress that he'd sat on days beforehand while Blaine, his Blaine, had spoken to him, held him, made love to him with his mouth for the first time and told him that he loved him. Kurt inhaled deeply, trying to get air, and he could still smell a soft trace of Blaine's cologne. _Blaine, how could you?_He cried harder, writhing, and slid off the bed, onto the floor, all pain and confusion and anger and hurt and sickness.

He wasn't sure how long he lay there, curled up in a ball, trying to make sense of everything while wallowing in his shattered state, before he heard a strong knock on the door. He twitched, but he ignored it, because he couldn't shout at Dwayne to go away and he was in no state to be receiving guests. Not with his cheeks and eyes all puffy, and his nose filled with snot from crying. Not with his heart in pieces beside him on the floor.

"Kurt?" he heard the banging intensify, and he stiffened. It couldn't be. "Kurt? It's Blaine. Open up! I need to talk to you."

Kurt brushed away his tears, his sobbing ceasing momentarily but he was unable to move. He just stared at the dark wood that made up his doorframe, eyes following the imperfections there.

"Kurt, please? The guys have got it all wrong. They think you're upset. They won't agree to my duet idea with Vance unless you tell them you're cool with it. I mean, it's ridiculous. Of course you are; you're my friend, and I remembered that I told you about Vance a few days ago. I finally found him, Kurt! Aren't you happy for me?"

Kurt felt like he was falling. He couldn't believe what he was hearing and his body went numb. A surge of rage seized Kurt and he ran to open the door. Blaine's huge, happy grin met him on the other side, but it was replaced with a look of shock when Kurt gripped Blaine by the shoulders and shook him mercilessly. "Kurt! Ow, what are you-, stop!" Blaine tried to shake himself free of Kurt's grasp, but Kurt thought he could snap Blaine out of this. Whatever this was.

Kurt snuck his hand down to cup Blaine through his pants, hoping the spark of his touch would ignite Blaine's libido and bring back his senses. Blaine momentarily looked surprised and slightly aroused at the touch, but it lasted for a split second before he jumped back, bracing his hands in front of him, upset. "What? Are you crazy? What are you doing, Kurt? I thought I made it clear; I love Vance!"

Kurt slapped Blaine fiercely, ignoring the sharp sting in his hand. And his dormmates, who had all stopped in their tracks in the hallway to stare at the altercation.

Blaine's hand rose to cup his cheek, his jaw dropped in shock. For a second, he looked as if he was about to cry, but anger replaced hurt as he rubbed his face to sooth. "That hurt. Why would you do that?"

Kurt scrambled backwards, grabbing the item he'd dropped when he'd first entered his dorm. He flipped open the cover and held the notepad up to Blaine's face. Blaine used his free hand to hold it, looking down at it only briefly before looking back up at Kurt.

"It's just the Warbler notepad. What's your point?"

Kurt looked around. His letter was still there, at the top of the pad, in crisp condition. He tapped it pointedly. Blaine looked down again and shrugged. "So you've made the notepad smell like cinnamon. Wes will like it, I guess. I don't know what you're so worked up about."

_He can't read it._Kurt broke again. He clutched his hair in his hands and tears streamed down his face once more. He squeezed his eyes shut and started to hyperventilate as he leaned against the arch of the door. Blaine just stared at him in anger and confusion. He closed the notepad and tossed it carelessly inside Kurt's open dorm. "I guess I'll have to convince the council on my own. I'm disappointed Kurt. I thought you were my friend." Blaine turned to walk away.

Kurt made one last desperate attempt to communicate to Blaine that something was wrong. So very wrong. He fished through his pocket for his phone and typed out quicker than he'd ever typed, _'Vance is an imposter. He's lying about his voice.' _

Kurt watched Blaine slow his pace as he reached down to the vibration in his pocket, pulling it out and reading the message. Blaine stared at his screen for a minute, a mixture of emotions evidently parading through his mind. Kurt stood there, breathing heavily as Blaine shuddered and closed his eyes and shook his head, bringing his hands up to clutch his face. He was wrestling with something internally, Kurt could tell, and finally Blaine shot Kurt back a look of recognition, the first Kurt had seen all day. However, it wasn't one of joy, but frustration.

"Do you know who's lying about their voice? Huh?" Blaine retorted. "I've looked up mutism, Kurt! It's not like people's voices are _actually _on mute; it's an anxiety disorder, one I'd say you desperately need help overcoming except you're lying about it, aren't you? People with mutism actually have a voice, Kurt. I can't hear anything but I've seen you scream, I've felt you hum, I…" Blaine stammered, then he looked around confused before clutching his head again in what looked to be pain, "…I know something's wrong…you're lying to me…" Blaine crumpled and fell to his knees. Kurt rushed over to try and help him out but as soon as he touched Blaine's shoulder, it was if Blaine's convulsion hadn't happened. He brushed Kurt's hand away and rose to his feet, adjusting his blazer. He gave Kurt a stern look.

"We're done here. I'm sorry you couldn't find it in your heart to support me. I thought we were closer than that." Blaine huffed.

An eerily goofy grin quickly replaced Blaine's look of annoyance, and he turned on his heels to leave, whistling, leaving Kurt standing there, wrecked.

After a moment, Kurt finally noticed the other boys in the hallway, staring at him, embarrassed for him. He frantically darted back into his dorm room and slammed the door. His body felt slack and he slid down as he had at Rachel's party, knees pressed into his chest. He was at a complete loss of what to do. So he cried his heart out for the rest of the evening.


	13. Ain't It A Shame? Too Bad

**Chapters 11 – Ain't That Sad? Ain't It A Shame? Too Bad**

On Wednesday morning, Kurt had the privilege of watching Blaine stroll down the hall, hand in hand with Vance, both ignoring him as they walked by. Kurt didn't know if it was better that it hadn't looked deliberate. That Blaine had simply had not noticed him standing there with tears welling in the corner of his eyes. He was too distraught to care.

A few tables down at lunch, Kurt was subjected to his first viewing (of many) of the Blaine-and-Vance-Variety Hour. This show featured, with no regard for viewer discretion, hand-holding, leg-holding, knee-holding, thigh-_rubbing_, whispering, giggling, a few chaste and not-so-chaste kisses, and actual goddamn spoon-fed food sharing. When Vance playfully missed Blaine's mouth, he used the McQueen scarf, a permanent fixture on his wrist now, to wipe up the mess.

Kurt's instincts were torn fairly evenly between throwing up, throwing food, stabbing himself in the eye or stabbing Vance_. Repeatedly. All over. Especially in the throat_. After 10 minutes or so, Kurt opted instead to go cry in the men's room. It took him another 10 to realize that he was bawling in the same stall that Blaine had brought him off in the previous Wednesday. He noted that the only thing similar between the two instances was that both times he had been thankful that no one could hear him moan. He sobbed harder.

During Warbler's practise, he didn't take a single note. He'd left the notepad back in his dorm room where Blaine had tossed it the night previous, afraid that if he touched it, Blaine would be proven correct and it would evaporate in his hands. Instead, Kurt watched with total detachment as the Warblers scrambled to accommodate Blaine and his eleven o'clock duet with Vance. _Fucking Vance._ What could Kurt do? His entire life around Dalton had revolved around Blaine, and now he was paying for that dearly. He simply could not avoid the source of all these feelings of betrayal, confusion, heartbreak and agony.

The rational side of Kurt's brain knew that this was wrong; that Vance was a liar or a figment, some clause in the contract Kurt hadn't read. Or Rachel hadn't understood, because when he'd finally gathered the courage to update them on this fabulous new development, after Rachel had chewed him out between third and fourth period, she relayed that she couldn't recall anything relevant to this other than the fact that Kurt had temporarily forfeited his voice. Sue was behind this; there wasn't any doubt. And Blaine's bizarre, downright cruel behaviour had to be fabricated somehow. There was a spell, hypnosis, possession, whatever. Maybe it was temporary and would disappear after Regionals, when Kurt's voice would supposedly be restored (though this new development threw his faith in any of that into question).

Kurt knew he couldn't really take anything Blaine said or did under this influence to heart.

But the heart was not a rational muscle. Whether Kurt _knew_ that Vance, as he was, wasn't real; he couldn't help but feel a very real stab of jealousy when his blonde doppelganger's very real cheek was receiving a very real, very affectionate kiss from Blaine. Whether or not Kurt _knew_ that the goddamn high-pitched giggle escaping from the blonde imposter's mouth was stolen, that was _his_ laugh, Kurt couldn't help but shatter that it wasn't coming from his own mouth as Blaine whispered dirty little secrets into _his_ ear. And whether Kurt _knew_ this wasn't Blaine's fault, that if anything Blaine was as much a victim as Kurt was, Kurt couldn't help but hate Blaine a little for being so easily seduced and crushing Kurt's heart in the process.

Blaine was Kurt's first…everything. How could he forget that?

At various points during the meeting, Wes, Thad, Jeff, Nick, David and three other Warblers whose name's Kurt couldn't remember had all approached Kurt. They sympathized with his plight, admitting they knew full well what was going on between him and Blaine. They were all furious at Blaine for treating Kurt so poorly and sorry that Kurt had to sit there and watch. But they also apologized profusely for having to bend to Blaine's wishes; he had them by the balls. If Blaine quit, they were screwed; they had no backup and they were feeling the full consequence of putting all their eggs into one basket.

Kurt could do nothing but shrug, accept their sympathies and wave off their apologies. They were tighter performers than New Directions, but they lacked any spontaneity. Asking them to change their entire set-list on a dime was impossible. Kurt understood. Didn't mean he hated everything any less.

He knew he could leave. He could get up and walk away from the Warblers and not subject himself to this minute-by-minute torture of watching the boy he loved, who he knew loved him back, love another. His whole body itched to just flee and never return. But he'd done enough running; whether he was the cause of Vance's appearance or not, he was the source of the situation. The situation that was going to cost his friends' voices at Regionals. He could at least have the dignity to be there when the spell took effect and let them kick the crap out of him for it. It was the one choice he had left, and he would be damned if he wasn't going to take the honourable route.

If Kurt was being completely honest with himself, though, he'd admit that his previous week of receiving kiss after kiss of not-true love had turned him into a bit of a masochist. He'd rather be experiencing all the agony of watching Blaine ignore him and love another if it meant he could spend his last few days at Dalton in the same room as Blaine at all.

The following two days had been more or less the same; perhaps the only improvement being that Kurt was becoming more numb to the situation, more resigned to his fate. He still broke down half a dozen times during the school day and maybe a dozen or so more at night in his room. He tried texting Blaine, tried explaining everything to him, but he'd receive no reply. Once he'd sent something to Blaine during practise and he'd watched his former boyfriend take his phone out of his pocket, eyes glazing over as he glanced quickly at the text, definitely not long enough to read its contents. He'd tapped his finger and shoved his phone back into his pocket. Kurt had a feeling that Blaine was either compelled not to read anything from him, or blind to any communication. Kurt also had a feeling reminiscent of being simultaneously kicked in the gut and punched in the face.

But what else could he do but sit there and take it?

* * *

><p>Hours after the sun had set, a loud shriek pierced the hallways of McKinley. It was followed by a series of high pitched screams.<p>

Puck and Finn raced to the source of the noise. They rounded the corner to find three hysterical girls in the middle of a serious catfight. Rachel had Santana immobilized on the ground, straddling her, pinning Santana's hands behind her head while Brittany tried to pull Rachel off by tugging at her midsection. Rachel was struggling to keep on top as Santana bucked beneath her, and their writing caused both girls' skirts to ride up, revealing more and more of their legs…

"Stop it!" Finn yelled beside Puck, and the two girls complied, freezing as if they were in trouble. Hudson was a total buzz-kill.

"Uh, yeah, what the hell, you two?" Puck snapped back into his surroundings as he helped Finn push Brittany away pull the two girls on the ground apart.

Normally, when he'd been fantasizing about Santana and Rachel going at it, Santana came out on top easily. And there was jello involved. But this was not sexy-fun wrestling, Puck realized. Rachel had nothing to lose, and if action movies had taught Puck anything, it was that kind of attitude that meant total lack of self-regard, and usually ended in getting shot down a blaze of glory. He couldn't believe he was even thinking it, because normally he wouldn't care, but Puck decided he would not want to be on Rachel Berry's shit-list.

Puck let Hudson retrain Rachel as he took on the decidedly less formidable Santana. "All right, all right. Enough with the Foxxy Boxing. You really wanna be doing this around Coach Sylvester's office? Haven't you learned that she could, like, turn you into frogs or something?"

"Being her spy not good enough? Huh?" Rachel growled from under Finn's hold. "Now she wants you two bimbos to become assassins and take out the leader? That's obviously what's going on here! I was defending myself!"

"You attacked us, Quasimodo!" Santana shouted.

"Because you were spying! Like the two traitorous…_bitches _you are!" Rachel struggled to make the cursing sound convincing.

"Like I said before you jumped me, we were _trying_ to help you losers out!" Santana retorted, still struggling under Puck's grasp.

"A likely story!" Rachel huffed. "You two selfish whores are just in it for yourselves."

"THAT'S IT! I'm going so Lima Heights on your ass right now!" Santana threatened and despite Puck's best efforts to keep her restrained, Santana's overwhelming rage pulled him down the hall with her. After a minute of desperate clambering, he planted his feet firmly and neither one was going anywhere.

"Stop the violence!" Brittany cried and instantly Santana calmed in Puck's arms. Puck's body slackened but his grip remained steady. "She's telling the truth! We were trying to break into Coach Sylvester's office."

Finn grumbled as Rachel's flailing rocked him, "You can't; we've been trying all week."

They had. Ever since the Coach hadn't shown up for school on Tuesday, and Kurt had texted them about that Blaine kid being under some love spell with another dude, they'd spent every moment between classes and after school trying to get into her office, hoping that the contracts would be inside and they could just shred them all and be done with it.

Puck supplied, "I lit a frikkin' cherry bomb. Nothing!"

Finn added, "It's like there's an invisible brick wall in the doorway."

"More like adamantium! My cherry bombs are like dynamite."

"It's magicked shut, you idiots!" Puck couldn't see but he just knew Santana was rolling her eyes. "Get off me." She shook. "I ain't gonna cut Berry, though she _so_ has it coming. Gets off me!"

"You two gonna behave?"

"Yes-" Santana started.

"No-" Rachel bit angrily, but Finn shook her and her jaw hardened. "Okay okay! Fine. Let's hear some more lies."

"We're not lying," Brittany was upset. "We're here to break Kurt's contract. His and ou-" but Brittany's mouth comically snapped shut. She mumbled loudly, her eyes wide with ever increasing panic. She started to stomp, pounding her fists in the air. Puck was too distracted by the sight to hold onto Santana as she wrangled free from his grasp.

"Stop trying to say it baby!" Santana gripped Brittany by the shoulders and pulled her into a hug. "Open your mouth. Breathe." She cooed, pulling Brittany into a hug, stroking her arms. "Shh. Just breathe, hun. Just breathe."

Eventually, with her head hooked over Santana's shoulder, Brittany complied. "I was so scared! I can't-"

"Shh, shhh," Santana stroked Brittany's hair lovingly. After about a minute of the two girls caressing each others' arms, a minute Puck didn't mind spectating, Santana turned around, wiping away a tear. "See? I clearly can't say why, but I think you guys can put it together. We're on your side in this. Destroying _all_ the contracts works in our favour."

Puck chanced a look over at Rachel, who had also visibly calmed, though her worry had not abated in the slightest. Finn didn't look wholly convinced. "I knew she had something on you two! What made you change your minds?"

Santana wearily looked over at Brittany, who simply nodded. Santana finally spoke. "We realized that, no matter how things go down, we're going to _need_ glee club. Which will disappear if Coach Sylvester has her way and Kurt doesn't break the spell. From the sounds of things, it doesn't look like he's going to…not before tomorrow."

"There's an imposter with Kurt's voice," Rachel explained. "He's bewitched Blaine to forget about Kurt completely."

"Bitch!" Santana hissed under her breath.

"You wanna go?" Rachel looked poised to leap.

"I _meant_ Sue." Santana raised her hands to defend herself.

"Girls!" Finn jumped between them. "Okay, so," he turned to Santana, "if you know the office has a magic wall around it, why were you here? What are you trying to do?"

"Because it's not like a wall anymore!" Brittany said cheerily, her face returning to its normal colour. "It's like a waterbed! Look!"

Brittany walked over to the empty space between the doorframe, spun around and let herself fall backwards. Puck flinched, expecting her to smack her head like he had when he'd charged the invisible barrier the previous day, but instead she simply floated lightly. The air around her seemed slightly distorted, ripples emanating out from where Brittany was leaning. "So much fun! My parents took away my waterbed when I tickled Lord Tubbington on it. They almost took away his claws too until I explained he needs them to enforce order in the kitty kingdom."

Puck, Rachel and Finn all walked over and began poking the space beside Brittany. It was definitely less than solid. It reminded Puck of the time he nailed Miss Taylor on the purple inflatable pool chair. Man, he was gonna miss those MILFs if they couldn't break the spell.

"When did this start?" Finn asked. "It wasn't like this at lunch."

"It's been like this since after glee practise, and it's been getting worse. We've been waiting here to see if the barrier actually turns into mush." Santana answered.

Finn, Puck and Rachel each exchanged a look. It seemed they were going to wait too.

* * *

><p>As the last pre-Regionals Warblers practise wound down, after the hundredth, "this really sucks for you," and the thousandth subtle tear brush, Kurt packed up his stuff to leave. He heard Blaine speaking to Vance from across the room.<p>

"Hey, babe, wait for me outside?"

Kurt looked up to see Vance give an angry look back to Blaine, "But, _Blaine_, I'm not leaving you alone…_with him._"

"Hun, you've got nothing to worry about. I just need to have a quick word with Kurt," Blaine was chipper.

Vance glared nervously at Kurt. "It's not _you_ I'm worried about…"

Kurt shot back the strongest bitch-face in his arsenal, and he meant every second of it. _I will end you._ Vance didn't flinch, only returning the stare in kind.

"I won't be more than a sec, okay?" Blaine said, oblivious to the battle of wits occurring before him.

As Kurt rounded the desk, he dialled back the bitch but kept up the resolve. There was no point getting angry at Blaine, not when this wasn't his fault. There was no point in screaming or crying, or shaking or running or falling into Blaine's eyes or tracing Blaine's jaw with his tongue…

"Kurt, you need to stop looking at me like that…" Blaine warned.

Kurt snapped out of his haze. God, Kurt really hated himself if his mind could wander to the dirty places even when everything about his situation was torture.

"Not just now. All the time. Vance said I should ignore it, but I'm asking you to stop."

There was a voice screaming inside Kurt. _No, don't stop. Fight for your man. You know that he loves you. _Make_ him remember._

But he knew it would do no good. Catching Blaine's eyes…there was something different there. Kurt couldn't pinpoint it, but in addition to the overwhelming behavioural evidence, Kurt could simply sense that it wasn't really _his_ Blaine behind the wheel. Kurt was utterly powerless. He was just going to have to suck it up. He nodded reluctantly.

"And…" Blaine added, shifting uncomfortably, "I would really appreciate it if you stopped lying to everyone."

Kurt wasn't faking the look of confusion on his face. He tilted his head questioningly.

"All the guys are giving me grief about…'breaking your heart.'" Blaine was looking anywhere other than Kurt, but he was determined to get his point across. "At first I was going to let it go, but it keeps coming up and it's really…awkward. I think…I think you need help. You're suffering from some kind of…delusion. Or fantasy or something. We were friends…but we were never a 'we.' We got coffee…We were never anything special."

_That's _what it felt like to be punched in the face.

Kurt whipped out his phone, not even bothering to hit send. Kurt just held the phone up to Blaine's surprised face. _'I'm living the fantasy? We had everything Blaine. We were in love! And you bail on that for some fever-dream you told me about moments before you gave me my first blowjob?'_

Kurt regretted typing it the instant he'd shown it to Blaine, who had given it half-a-second's worth of attention. He was angry with Blaine, but more with himself for forgetting that, as he suspected, Blaine wouldn't see what he'd written. His suspicions were confirmed when Blaine merely nodded.

"Yes, Kurt. It's a fantasy. I don't care about _my_ reputation, but it's hurting Vance and he has enough to deal with being the new guy. You know what that's like. So I'm asking you, please, whatever you've been saying to people…just stop. Please and thank you."

Kurt took one large, shaky breath, the constant _this is not happening_ mantra he'd kept up the past few days ringing through his brain. He had one more hand to play before he gave up entirely.

He typed it out and handed the phone to Blaine before he turned to leave. ''_Candles' is an interesting song choice for your duet. Is that the song you two sang to each other back when you first met?"_

Blaine stared at the phone for a good minute. He was clearly reading the whole thing, which meant he _could_. Kurt felt a jolt of satisfaction at finding this loophole.

"No…" Blaine trailed off. There was a glazed over look in his eye.

'_Oh? What song did you two sing?'_

"I don't…" Blaine stammered again. The confusion turned pained, and Blaine's hand came up to cover his forehead.

* * *

><p>"Woah!" Brittany yelped, delighted. "It's even wobblier!"<p>

* * *

><p>'<em>Maybe if you can't remember, you can get Vance to tell you. You were drunk, but he would know, right?'<em>

Blaine dropped the phone after shakily reading Kurt's final question. Both his hands were clutching his head, like he was fighting off a migraine. He yelped in pain. "Stop…it hurts…just want to be happy…just want to love…it hurts it hurts it hurts…"

* * *

><p>"AHH!" Brittany screamed. She fell backwards completely, clutching Santana's hand as she did so, but Santana was caught off guard and she tumbled into the office too. She fell on top of Brittany with a loud "oof!"<p>

After a beat, Brittany shouted triumphantly, "I did it!"

* * *

><p>All rage Kurt had evaporated when he saw Blaine in physical pain. He darted forward, trying to steady him.<p>

"Kurt, I'm sorry…" Blaine began when he caught Kurt's eyes. But there was another cry and Vance came tumbling into the room, clutching his head too. Blaine turned immediately at the sound, and as soon as Blaine's eyes connected with Vance, both their pain seemingly evaporated.

Blaine stood tall. "You okay, babe?"

"I feel a little sick," Vance righted himself. "Can we go? Now?"

They left. Kurt collapsed furiously on the couch.

* * *

><p>"Sweet!" Puck shouted.<p>

He and Rachel charged the office. Their tenacity was rewarded with a face full of hurt.

"My nose!" Rachel squealed. Puck clutched his own head in pain. He really needed to stop charging head-first into things.

Finn braced his hand against the opening. "It's back up. It's solid." He kicked the invisible barrier. "Is it solid from your end?"

Santana crawled over, putting her hand up, pressing hard. "Yup, we're stuck."

After a minute of all parties staring, looking hopeless, Santana piped up. "It's okay. Let me see if I can find the contracts." She scrambled behind Sue's desk, opening each drawer of the filing cabinet. "No, no, no, jackpot! _Holy-_, 2003, 2001, 96, there's gotta be like twenty years' worth of contracts here. "

"That's way too much reading," Puck supplied. "Just burn the whole stash."

Santana reached between her cleavage, pulling out her favourite lighter. She picked a contract at random and flicked it on. The flame licked the corner but nothing burned. "No good! Figured as much."

"Can't you, tear it or scribble on it or something?" Rachel begged, desperate. "Change the wording to '_everyone in New Directions BUT Rachel Berry?'"_

"Nope and nope," Santana answered after a minute. "Magic, like me, is a tough bitch."

"Well this was a monumental waste of time," Rachel huffed. "And now two of our team-mates are trapped here! Even if Kurt manages to break the spell, we won't have enough members to compete!"

"Okay, honey?" Santana shouted from her kneeling position, thumbing through each individual contract, looking for hers, Brittany's and Hummel's. "This is what you're going to do. You three are going to leave us here." She shushed all of their objections. "Yes, especially you Berry, and not just because you're giving me a Zizes-sized migraine."

"Hey!" Puck objected.

"Look, if we somehow find a way to break the contract, you guys need to be at the competition to place. Like usual, our entire routine is based on you, Berry, so you can't be here."

"What's the point? I can't focus! I can't sleep," Rachel whined.

"We all know you could do it in your sleep," Santana rolled her eyes at being forced to compliment Rachel. She stood and walked to the doorway, crossing her arms. "Look, grab Jacob Ben Israel; promise to show him your chest. Tell Suzie Pepper that Schue promises to do the same. It's not like we have any actual choreography. If…_when_ we find something, we'll call you."

"You have a phone on you?" Finn asked, uncertain as he looked Santana up and down. She was wearing nothing but a skin-tight, long-sleeved red dress. She smirked as she reached between her cleavage again, pulling out her Blackberry.

"And a pack of Marlboro's." she winked.

"_Damn_," Puck's eyes glazed over.

"What if Coach Sylvester comes back?" Rachel asked. "She'll kill you."

"Wait you haven't put that together yet? And they say _I'm_ the stupid one." Brittany shook her head, laughing.

Finn looked confused. "Put _what_ together?"

"Coach has been gone since this new kid showed up, with Kurt's voice. Which Coach stole. The new kid is obviously Coach Sylvester!" Brittany explained.

Puck, Finn, Rachel and Santana pondered for a minute, and then all exchanged a look of disgust.

"Ewwwww…" they said in unison.

After a minute, Santana waved the gross thought away, "Okay, okay, whatever. More motivation to break this damn thing. Get lost. Me and Brit gots this," she exhaled, proud and confident.

From behind Sue's desk, Brittany asked, "Who's 'Hereby'? He's in, like, every contract!"

Santana cringed. She loved Brit, but this was going to be a long night.


	14. No Time Would Be Better

**Chapter 12 - No Time Would Be Better**

"…but if you could just tell me what it's about, at least…" Quinn attempted nonchalance, "I mean, I don't _care_, but I don't want Schue giving me grief for not participating in our assignment."

Rachel whipped around to stare down the blond behind her, nails digging into the cheap material of the old bus seats. "Oh believe me, you did quite enough!" Rachel was seeing red, "If anything, I should credit you as the song's inspiration! Congratulations; you matter! Now get out of my life!"

Rachel spun back around and stuck her fingers in her ears, drowning out Quinn's questions. She did not have the mental capacity to be dealing with her heartbreak and rage over confirming that Finn was again seeing the lying, ex-pregnant, ex-cheerleading shrew. Not when Quinn had made the case that she deserved Finn more than Rachel, since this was the high point of the probable Prom Queen's life. And that Rachel needed to be unattached so she could be free to move away and have her moment to shine, because she had so many shining moments ahead of her. Little did Quinn know that, given the current circumstances, Rachel's days in the spotlight were probably already long behind her.

_Quinn even stole my solo at sectionals. My last opportunity for a public performance; snatched from my fingers by a blonde bimbo amateur. She steals everything from me and manages to look gorgeous doing it. I hate her! I hate her! I hate her!_

Rachel _had_ written her original song; even amongst the turmoil that was her predicament, she'd risen to the occasion. If she still had her voice by the time she was set to sing, she would give the performance of a lifetime. But chances of that happening were slim. New Directions, minus a few members, was on the bus to Regionals, and there had been no word from Kurt or Santana that the spell was lifted or broken.

She. Was. Doomed.

Amongst the kerfuffle of her teammates, she heard the distorted opening notes to "Fat Bottomed Girls" and spun in her seat to see Puckerman head to the back of the bus, answering his phone. She jumped out of her seat and followed.

"It's your boy Puck here," he answered cockily. Then he whispered, "You find anything?" He signalled Rachel to sit in the seat in front of him, and Finn did the same.

Rachel glanced behind her to see Quinn narrowing her eyes suspiciously at Rachel and Finn's proximity, but Rachel chose to ignore it. She looked back desperately at Puck, hissing, "_Well?"_

He held up a hand, still talking into the phone; "Yeah…Yeah... that's weird…okay…thought so… Holy shit, Santana! Why didn't you open with that?"

"What is it?" Rachel demanded. Puck ignored him.

"Yeah, okay. Keep us posted. Puckinator out." and he hung up the phone.

"Did they break the curse or not?" Rachel growled.

"Nah, not yet," Puck sighed.

"Then what was that all about?" Finn asked.

"Santana found the contract; it was taped under Sue's desk..."

"Which contract?" Rachel slammed her fist on the back of the seat.

"Cool your tits, Berry! I'm trying to tell you," Puck said, aggressively, "Anyway, yeah, no; the contract that's brainwashing Blaine. Turns out, Blaine didn't sign it. Here's the important thing, though; neither did the other kid."

"Other kid?" Finn questioned.

"Yeah, turns out this Vance kid is _actually some kid._ Named Vance. Blaine hasn't been getting freaky with Coach Sylvester in magic drag."

"_Oh_, thank god!" Rachel sighed, relieved.

"Seriously," Finn breathed out, "like half the reason I couldn't sleep last night was because I had the image of those two making out seared into my brain." He became very grim, "We _never _tell Kurt that theory, okay?"

"Word," Puck nodded. "Anyway, so Santana was going on and on about how this contract's different than the others. Everything else is like, a deal, but this one was straight-up non-consensual. Also, apparently there's no time-line on it; like, it's possible that this could be a forever thing."

"You mean it's not going to lift after the competition?" Finn asked.

Puck shrugged. "They don't know; they don't even know if Hummel's gonna get his voice back like his contract says he would."

"Well, at least we'll all be in the same boat!" Rachel huffed.

"Are you listening to yourself right now?" Finn said, angry. "We're _all_ screwed here, but show a little sympathy for Kurt! He has to sit there and watch while his boyfriend is forced to cheat on him."

"Oh, I can empathize _plenty,_" Rachel started.

"No, you can't." Finn was annoyed.

"You cheated on me with Santana and now you're cheating on me with Quinn!" Rachel spat.

"We weren't dating then and we're not dating now!" Finn shot back.

"Hey, lovebirds!" Puck growled. "While all of this drama is _super _compelling and mighty convenient, we have more pressing matters to freak out about."

Rachel tightened her jaw, calming down. "Fine, what else did Santana say?"

"Umm…" Puck closed his eyes, trying to remember, "she said something about _Sue_ saying something about 'breaking the rules,' so now they're tearing apart her office looking for 'The Rules.'"

"So what you're telling me is they _haven't_ broken the curse yet?" Rachel could not sound less amused. She crossed her arms, fuming.

Puck shook his head. "Nah, not yet. They just wanted to keep us updated with the deets."

"Which was super nice of them because…" Finn stared blankly ahead, "the images…"

"Yeah. I guess it's good to have _that_ cleared up at least." Rachel conceded.

"Seriously," Puck shuddered. "Gross."

* * *

><p>"I found them!" Brittany shouted after the room had erupted in a loud thud.<p>

Brittany seemed excited, kneeling on the other side of the room, waving Santana to come look. Santana jumped off the table near the window, abandoning her mission to look behind the curtains, and hurried over. She squinted at the cheerleading trophy Brittany was holding and took it from her. It was old but finely polished, much tinier than all of the other trophies cluttering up the office. Santana tilted it upwards, looking at the inscription,

'1990 National Cheerleading Association – Third Place – William McKinley High School.' It had fallen from its rightful home, underneath the picture of Sue and her team from the same year. Being a former Cheerio, Santana immediately recognized the looks on their faces; smiling but terrified. Sue looked…displeased. Santana wasn't surprised; third place was for losers.

"Underneath!" Brittany pushed on, tapping the trophy. "There's all this fancy writing on the bottom. I knocked it over when I was trying to feel up the little cheerleader's boobs."

Santana flipped the trophy and immediately she knew that Brittany had inadvertently found the right thing.

An entire contract was etched into the metal underneath. At the bottom, there were two inscribed signatures; one from Sue, and a second signature that she could not read. It didn't look like cursive; it was more a character from an alphabet Santana didn't recognize.

Santana, ecstatic that they were finally on the right track, read through the rules, explaining them to Brittany, "Okay, so it says lots of things, I'm just trying to find out the-, yeah, like I thought, powerful magic, contracts are the vessel, indestructible, blah blah blah-, okay, yup, this makes sense!"

She turned to Brittany, "Okay, so basically, it seems that Sue _can_ cast a spell without the other party's consent, but overriding willpower is 'too dangerous to maintain for long.' It overloads her 'power source'," Santana added at Brittany's confused look. "It's easier for her to cast a spell if the person agrees to it. From what I read from the new contract, I don't think Blainey-boy or that Vance kid agreed to being brainwashed. So, the important question is now… what is her power source?" Santana's eyes flicked through. "It just says part of the agreement is that the power-source is a loan. When her time is up, it must be returned to whoever owns that funky signature."

Santana sunk against the barrier, pressing her fingers to her temples. "What could it be?"

"Do you think it's in here?" Brittany asked.

"Probably not. It says it must be kept on her person to harness its energy…"

"Her person?" Brittany was puzzled. "Becky!"

"Ugh, no, it means her body," Santana thought. "What does she keep on her all the time?…"

Brittany just stood there for a few minutes, staring blankly. Finally, it hit her. "All the _time_?"

Santana looked back at the girl she loved; when realization dawned on her, she smiled. "You brilliant bitch!"

She pecked Brittany on the nose before she whipped out her phone to call Puck back.

* * *

><p>Kurt watched listlessly backstage as Aural Intensity wrapped up their "Jesus is a Friend of Mine" number. Considering that one of the judges was a Nun and the other a right-wing conservative, he knew the competition was over. He hadn't held up much hope for a duet between two boys before Sue's team's cheap pandering.<p>

He'd run out on hope as a concept altogether, anyway. Since the night before, when _his_ Blaine had shone through for a split second, Kurt had thought that maybe he had been close to breaking Blaine out of his hypnosis. That maybe he could push Blaine further, through the pain, to the other side, and Blaine would be free.

But whatever had happened in those confusing few seconds, it had caused Blaine's condition to worsen. He wasn't just passively ignoring Kurt anymore. He wasn't just not responding to texts or letters; he wasn't responding to Kurt. It was like Kurt was invisible. Kurt had even tried tackling Blaine to the ground in the Dalton parking lot, just to get his attention. But Blaine had merely pushed him off and boarded the bus, eyes glazed over like a zombie. Kurt might as well have not even been there.

Which meant that, after everything Kurt had gone through the past month, all the progress he'd made with Blaine, and himself, he was back to square one. Out of sight, out of mind; his love for Blaine tragically unrequited because he didn't even know that Kurt existed.

Except this time, there was no hope that could change. Santana had called to tell him that Blaine's hypnosis may be permanent. That when the spell wasn't broken, when he lost his friends' voices, and possibly his own now too, when he got booted from Dalton for not having the tuition and was forced back to that hellhole McKinley…his one lifeline, Blaine, might be completely unattainable. Kurt, who didn't say anything because he couldn't say anything, had merely hit the 'end call' button.

He looked on as Blaine fawned over Vance. Kurt felt a pit in his stomach. It should be Kurt standing there nervously, looking out at the audience, shaking in anticipation. It should be Kurt being comforted with Blaine massaging his shoulders, whispering encouragements into his ear. It should be Kurt being told that his stage-fright was 'adorable,' that he was 'adorable.' That he and Blaine were going to 'kill it.' Instead, Kurt was like a convicted felon in medieval times, waiting in his cell to die.

As the curtain lowered on Aural Intensity, he adjusted his tie and primped his hair. If he was going to go out, he was going out looking his best. With his head held high.

_Let's get this over with._

* * *

><p>"Stop looking down my dress!" Rachel squirmed. "The deal was you'd see them <em>after<em> we performed."

"Just a sneak preview, please?" Jacob stuttered nasally. "A teaser teat?"

"No!" Rachel slapped him with her program. She was about to snap, her nerves tenser than violin strings, and Jacob Ben Israel was dangerously close to being her first murder victim.

Mr. Schuester told both of them to hush as the curtains rose, revealing over a dozen blazered boys. Kurt stood in the middle row, mouthing the backing vocals as the Warblers began their performance. He looked just as miserable as Rachel felt. A pang of sympathy reverberated through her.

Then a boy, who looked somewhat like a blonde Kurt, but taller and with more angled features, stepped forward and sang the opening line,

_"The power lines went out…"_

Even though she'd expected it, Rachel was struck with how _eerie_ the whole situation was. If she closed her eyes, she could swear that it was _Kurt_ singing. She'd heard him enough times in the few solos he'd performed to know his exact pitch; his choir-boy quality always had threatened to steal numbers from her.

This was simply awful. It was one thing to have her voice taken from her; but the thought of looking on as someone else used it to shoot to the stardom that was so rightfully hers? Rachel started to cry out of pure pity, watching Kurt's face as he was clearly holding back tears himself.

As the song continued on, however, Rachel noticed something that made her shake with frustration; the imposter, Vance, was _butchering_ it. Rachel knew that Kurt's voice was capable of hitting those notes clear as a bell, but Vance sounded like he was tone deaf.

_He's throwing the competition!_

* * *

><p>"Hey, losers!" Puck shouted as the Aural Intensity kids filed out from backstage. "Nice set-list. Your Sunday school teacher pick it out for you?"<p>

Most of the kids from the rival show choir ignored Puck's taunt and walked by him. _Damn it._ Normally he'd keep going with the taunts, but he didn't have the time. He needed to change tactics. There was more than one way to disturb shit.

He ran backwards and blocked the way of two performers, clearly a couple, smirking.

"And who are you exactly?" a small, pretty red haired girl asked, hand clasping a short, muscular guy's arm.

"I'm a good time, baby. That's all you need to know," Puck threw her a wink. "I'm from New Directions, and with you being from a rival team, I think you and I could totally rock the whole Romeo and Juliet thing. But with more sex."

"Hey, back off man, that's my girlfriend," The midget demanded, offended. He shoved Puck back.

_Perfect_.

"Back off or what, Crew Cut? I'm just trying to give the lady some options, play the field," Puck jutted his chest out.

"How about I play my fist on your face!" the tool shouted.

Oh, this was too easy. "You wanna dance, Church Boy?" Puck had to dodge backwards to avoid a swing. He swung back.

* * *

><p>There was a shift amongst the Warblers. They could hear it too. Kurt felt a surge of anger as Vance missed note after note, falling flat or coming off sharp.<p>

He'd worked so hard for people to take him seriously as a singer and this guy _Vance_ was tearing all that hard work to shreds. He stopped mouthing his fake back-up vocals and just stared at the back of Vance's head, wishing he could will it to explode with a single thought. If his dream duet with Blaine hadn't been perverted enough, this was the final nail in the coffin. But like the rest of the group, he could do nothing but sway in the background as the performance that should have been his fell apart around them.

It would all be over soon, anyway.

* * *

><p>"HEY! QUIT IT!" Sue yelled, rage thick in her voice.<p>

But Puck ignored her, keeping the pipsqueak in a headlock and punching him hard in the gut. Soon, he felt Sue's strong arms around him, trying to pull him off. He held on tighter, not willing to give up so easily.

"Puckerman, I swear if you do not stop attacking my lead tenor I will shave off the rest of your hair and _none _of it will grow back!" Sue shouted as she tried to wrestle him off the other boy, but Puck would not let go. "And I'm not just talking about the hair on your head!"

"What do you care!" Puck managed, struggling between two bodies in the commotion. "You've already beat us! They're not worth anything to you anymore!"

Sue immediately let go. "You know, you're ri-AH!"

Puck dropped the douche he was pounding on and spun around. He smiled. Like they'd planned, Hudson, the only person he knew that was tall enough to overpower Sue, had snuck up behind her when she was distracted. He had both her arms pinned behind her back.

"Get it!" Finn yelled, struggling.

Puck wasted no time. He undid the front zipper to Sue's track suit as she struggled and screamed "That is assault, mister!"

Swinging around Sue's neck was a black stop-watch. The thing was going crazy; it was beeping loudly at all different frequencies, and numbers and weird shapes flashed across the screen like the code special effects from _The Matrix_.

"Hey, Coach. I think your watch is broken,"

Puck picked at the string and pulled it off with one huge yank as Sue howled with rage. He tossed it on the ground in front of him, lifting up his boot.

"Let me see if I can fix it for you."

And his foot came down hard.

* * *

><p>On stage, Kurt was busy drowning in misery and rage when he felt an incredibly odd sinking feeling in his chest. He felt overwhelmed, but it disappeared as quickly as it had hit him. He shook his head, not bothering to continue on with the charade, too depressed to-<p>

_FUCK._

Searing pain coursed through him. It felt like someone had kicked him in the throat. He squeezed his eyes shut as he collapsed. He was in so much pain, tears bursting forth. It was like he couldn't breathe.

* * *

><p>"It's still in one piece!" Puck shouted as he removed his foot.<p>

"Hit it again!" Finn said, struggling to hold Sue.

She screamed "NO!"

Puck brought his foot down again, hard, stomping with all his might until finally he looked down. The screen had shattered.

* * *

><p>Rachel watched in horror as Kurt clutched his throat and tumbled between the boys standing in front of him. The audience gasped. She jumped, screaming his name.<p>

Her calls went unheard as a light filled the auditorium, clearly emanating from three points on stage; Kurt, Blaine and Vance, all of whom collapsed as the light grew brighter.

* * *

><p>Kurt writhed around on the ground in agony, each jolt like a hundred knives in his throat. He saw stars. He couldn't breathe and everything hurt. He was screaming and screaming and even though the Warblers had stopped their backup singing, and the audience was in stunned silence for the split second that Kurt had been in pain, no one could hear his screams.<p>

Until they could.

A high pitched wail ripped from his throat, but the instant it did, the pain was gone. He felt as if a hand that had been gripping his throat had relaxed. He coughed uncontrollably on the stage, tears stinging his eyes. He tried to push himself up, but he was still trying to catch his breath.

* * *

><p>There was a bright light filling the office. Everything was white and blinding and pain, and then nothing.<p>

Santana and Brittany blinked heavily, and as soon as they could see, they looked at each other.

Santana's tight red dress was stretched to its limit. Brittany's hair had become a deep shade of orange, and her face was covered in freckles.

They didn't care. They'd done it. They hugged.

* * *

><p>Puck shielded his eyes from the bright light.<p>

As it disappeared, he stared back at Finn, who was still holding Sue. She looked deranged and she pulled out of his grasp, falling forward onto the floor, trying to reassemble the broken shards back into the stop-watch.

"NO!" she bellowed, all fury. "No, no no no! Do you have any idea…what I went through…who I had to deal with…to get this…"

But then Puck noticed something, and he burst out laughing. Finn, who had been blinking, blinded by the white light, seemed to regain his focus, and joined in with Puck, chuckling.

"Hey Coach," Puck mocked, "Nice do."

Sue stopped her frantic scrambling to piece together the watch. She froze in horror, slowly raising her hands, past her face, gripping her hair.

An earth-shaking howl ripped forth from her lips.

* * *

><p>"Look!" Brittany asked, nodding over Santana's shoulder.<p>

"At what?" Santana brushed away a tear to look around to what Brittany was referring to. And then she saw. Despite her overwhelming emotions, she couldn't help cracking up.

All the photos of Sue had morphed slightly. She still wore a bitter, angry look in every one of them, but-

"Oh my god!" Santana giggled hysterically.

Brittany joined in; "Her hair is just like Mr. Schue's!"

* * *

><p>After the light died down in the auditorium, Rachel could see the stage again.<p>

Kurt was still lying on the ground, crying and coughing, but his pained writhing had stopped.

Next to him was Vance, who let out a low-pitched, un-Kurt-sounding "What the fuck?" as he fell backwards on his ass.

Beside Vance was Blaine, on his knees, his body slack, and he blinked a few time, clearly confused. He quickly snapped out of it as he looked to his right, seeing Kurt struggling on the ground. Quickly crawling across the stage, clearly concerned, he ran to Kurt's aid.

* * *

><p>"KURT!"<p>

Kurt turned to his left. His vision was hazy but the voice was unmistakable.

Blaine shouted from beside him, "Kurt! Kurt are you okay?"

Kurt was still coughing, but the end of the pain meant he could start to breathe. As Blaine rushed towards him, trying to grip his shoulders to steady him on the ground, he choked back a sob.

Blaine started rubbing his back, completely consumed with concern, "Kurt, Kurt! What's wrong? Are you okay?"

As soon as he could, he wiped away his tears and his snot. He made a tiny noise, nodding his head, "uh huh."

Blaine's hand stilled on his back. "Kurt…are you feeling okay?"

He smiled and let out a little laugh. He didn't know why he thought to do it; but he was so confused and happy and relieved and _free_, he couldn't not.

Kurt began to sing.

"_Never knew…"_*cough* _"I could feel…like this…"_

Kurt smiled despite everything. He heard the Warblers gasp.

He felt the hand on his back leave completely, and as he looked up, he saw Blaine had fallen back, arms propped up behind him and legs splayed. His eyes were round and his jaw dropped, shock etched into his features.

Kurt gathered the strength to stand as Blaine sat flustered on the floor, look up at him in awe. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Vance crawl offstage, but his focus was completely on Blaine, whose focus finally was back on Kurt. He sighed. Now Blaine was listening, he was going to confess. But he was going to do it with flair.

"_Like I've never seen the sky before…"_

Kurt outstretched a hand to the boy before him, and he started to feel wet tears stream down his face again. But for the first time in days, they were happy tears. Tears of pure joy.

"_Want to vanish inside your kiss…"_

After a moment's hesitation, Blaine took Kurt's hand, but he looked no less dumbfounded as Kurt pulled him up to stand. Kurt continued, "_Every day I'm loving you, more and more."_

"Kurt…how…?" Blaine began to ask.

But Kurt held his fingers to Blaine's lips, shushing him and answering in song.

"_Listen to my heart," _He gripped Blaine's hand and brought it to his chest, letting it rest just beneath his throat,_ "can you hear it sing?"_

He pulled Blaine closer and wrapped his hands around the other boy's waist. If he was doing this, and he was doing this, he was going to do it right. He belted with crystal clear pitch, "_Come back to me, and forgive everything!"_

Kurt pulled Blaine into him, their waists touching. Blaine lifted a hand to Kurt's cheek, mouth still agape. He let out a choking laugh as he started to cry too.

Kurt sang a little quieter, "_Seasons may change, winter to spring,_"

And then he paused, smiling. He gazed deeply into Blaine's eyes, searching them out, making sure that Blaine was really hearing him. That this was real.

Kurt sighed, whispering, "I love you."

He meant it.

Blaine looked deeply back into his eyes. He kept trying to say something, his mouth twitching with the unspoken words, but all he could do was stare. Kurt shrugged, laughing through his tears, biting back his cry.

After what felt like a blissful eternity, Blaine pulled Kurt's head forward and brought him into a bruising kiss. It was chaste, but it was passionate, and Kurt felt like it was their first time, all over again. He kissed Blaine back with equal intensity, his heart overflowing.

It was only as they pulled away that they chanced a look around them, the sound of others finally something they were aware of. The audience was murmuring loudly, gasping and speaking frantically. The Warblers had erupted into cheers. They surged forward and surrounded the pair, jumping up and down with joy. Kurt and Blaine had to struggle to keep their balance in all the noise and frantic movement.

Kurt laughed, still amused and overjoyed by Blaine's stunned but ecstatic reaction, tears flowing freely down his face. He shouted, "I think it's about time I introduced myself properly, the way I've always wanted to!"

Kurt grabbed Blaine's hand and shook it firmly, smirking seductively.

"I'm Kurt Hummel."

Blaine said nothing, still speechless. But he was grinning from ear to ear.

Kurt then brought Blaine's hand to his lips, kissing it. "Charmed, I'm sure."

* * *

><p>tbc...<p> 


	15. Ask 'Em My Questions, Get Some Answers

**Chapter 13 – Ask My Questions; Get Some Answers**

"So…" A beat.

"So…" A coffee cup swirled gently.

"How's your week been-?"

"How are the Warblers-?"

They both cut off as they realized they were talking over each other. Both paused, laughed nervously as they caught each other's eye, and then looked away bashfully.

"This isn't weird," Kurt's tone was lightly sarcastic.

"No, not at all," Blaine agreed, sipping coolly from his drink. "I've never had to worry about talking over you before."

"Mmm," Kurt nodded. He twitched, "I suppressed the urge to reach for my phone just now."

"Definitely weird," Blaine scratched the back of his neck, "But, really. How has your week been?"

Kurt quirked his eyebrow and pondered the question. _Is he just making small talk before he dumps me? _

"Insane," he finally answered. "Just...unreal." And Kurt started relaying everything that had happened since they'd last spoke.

He didn't need to recount to Blaine the events following their show-stopping number at Regionals. Nor the judges' interpretation of it as a strange, homoerotic production with bizarre love triangles, confusing song change-ups and unnecessary special effects. The Warblers, normally on point, hadn't recovered after Blaine and Kurt's kiss, and New Directions' original songs had easily clinched the trophy as Rachel had given the performance of a lifetime. New Directions would be going to Nationals, and glee club would still exist at McKinley High.

Kurt, despite his embarrassment at such a public display of affection, had been on cloud nine. With his voice back, he had thanked Finn and Puck for their bravery, Santana and Brittany for their craftiness, and Rachel for her unwavering determination when Kurt had given up hope. Finn and Puck had promised to always have his back, more so than before, so nothing like this would ever happen again. Santana and Brittany had promised to avoid these kinds of situations by dealing with their problems the old-fashioned way; liposuction, hair dye and cosmetic surgery. Rachel had promised to thoroughly crush the competition in New York; once her voice was no longer at risk, she'd basically checked out of the whole conflict.

Kurt couldn't have been happier, basking in the afterglow of the spell breaking, but as the Warblers headed back to Dalton and he explained to them all a brief, family-friendly version of his deal with Sue, Kurt had noticed Blaine's post-spell euphoria waning. He seemed distant and shut down, and Kurt was terrified that Blaine had been damaged by Sue's mind control. Or worse; that the lies and secrets had been too much and Blaine was angry, or losing interest.

Perhaps it had been trying not to focus on Blaine's strange behaviour that forced Kurt to realize that, even though Sue had paid his tuition up until the end of the month, he would have to transfer back to McKinley soon. He was tired of running and hiding, and he'd rather rip off this particular band-aid as quickly as possible. So that night, in the face of their defeat, the Warblers celebration party had turned into a "Farewell Kurt" extravaganza, where Kurt was serenaded to and embraced by nearly every member of the club. Every member except for Blaine, who'd sat quietly in the corner, eyes drifting off into space.

Kurt had called his father to come and pick him up from Dalton and headed back to his dorm room to pack up the few items of his not stinking of his roommate's weed. After about half an hour, a soft knock at his door alerted him to Blaine's presence, and Kurt had invited him in. Blaine, still very introverted and reserved, had suggested that they 'talk.'

Kurt had learned from his girlfriends at McKinley that 'talking' was code for 'break-up.'

Kurt internally panicked, truthfully stating that he didn't have time or the energy to do that yet, but he'd call to meet up as soon as possible. On his way out the door, bag filled with organic hair and skin products, Kurt had leant over to pick up the Warbler's notepad, opening the front flap and handing it to Blaine. When he'd asked if Blaine could actually see the letter written there and Blaine had silently nodded, Kurt had requested for him to read it before they 'talked.' Internally, he begged Blaine to take Kurt's intended confession into consideration before he made any serious decisions.

Monday, back at McKinley, perhaps out of a warped sense of guilt over ignoring his son for a month, Burt had been aggressively adamant about Figgins ensuring Kurt a safe school environment now that Kurt's 'scholarship' had dried up. Burt had insisted that Figgins guarantee them that Kurt return to McKinley without fear of bullying, or the Hummels would sue. Kurt knew it was an empty threat, but Figgins was a high-strung man who was terrified of any legal talk and had quickly promised to bend to their wishes. Kurt held little choice in the matter, but had very little hope that any of it would be effective.

He'd thought his instincts had been proven right by third period the following day, when he had been hit with a blueberry slushie; a stinging, sticky bitch-slap from long-neglected reality.

"The bitch is back! Welcome home, faggot!" Azimio had gleefully taunted as Kurt had slowly brushed the cold slush from his eyes. Kurt was prepared to grunt and shake it off, but the harsh sound of a body slamming into a locker immediately after made him jump.

As the shock subsided and he'd realized he hadn't actually been touched, Kurt focused through the corn-syrup to see that it had been _Azimio_ reverberating off the hard metal. The aggressor; Karofsky.

"-the fuck, man?" Azimio had barked.

"Leave Hummel alone," Karofsky had demanded.

"What the-?" Azimio had asked, confused and angry. "Now you _want_ Hummel to blow you, is that it? You two boyfriends now?"

"_You _can blow me!" Karofsky had slammed a fist into the locker beside Azimio's head, causing both him and Kurt to flinch. "Figgins is watching me like a hawk now that Hummel's back. Any shit he catches is gonna come back on me, and if I'm ever going to get the fuck out of this shithole of a town, I need Figgins to not hate me enough to write me letters of reference for college. So back the fuck off!"

Karofsky had briefly shot Kurt an indecipherable look. Kurt had merely stood there in stunned silence, slush melting on his face.

Maybe this was Kurt's reward for keeping Karofsky's secret? Maybe Karofsky was telling the truth, and this was a 'thank you' for not putting 'assault' on his permanent record?

Whatever it was, Kurt couldn't find it in himself to acknowledge Karofsky coming to his aid, even if he was grateful. Being grateful for Karofsky was a feeling Kurt found deeply unsettling. Maybe Kurt didn't need to owe him this; he could have just shouted, in front of everyone, what had really happened in the bathroom. Shatter Karofsky's reputation worse than Karofsky ruined his.

Except he couldn't. Subtly enough that Kurt thought he may have imagined it, Karofsky's mouth twitched, a split-second falter in his otherwise impenetrable tough-guy persona. As much as he hated Karofsky, it wouldn't be worth it to out him when Kurt knew that he might be suicidal. Kurt really didn't want anything that heavy on his conscience. Kurt reluctantly let the desire to shame Karofsky go; it seemed he was going to continue to keep his mouth shut, and he was going to have to live with that.

When Kurt had said nothing, Karofsky merely shoved Azimio's shoulders, demanding compliance.

"Okay!" Azimio braced his arms defensively in front of him, empty slushie cup still in hand. "Queer's off limits. Didn't mean to get your ire up. We cool?"

After looking back at his friend, upset, Karofsky had simply left, leaving Azimio's outstretched hand hanging. Azimio had turned to Kurt, shaking his head, "You just had to go and gay-up my best friend," and walked away.

Whatever Karofsky's motivations were, his actions had worked. That had been Kurt's only altercation his first week back. It didn't stop the occasional dirty look or rude comment, but Kurt couldn't win them all.

Sue, whose defeat had been epically relayed by Finn and Puck, was nowhere to be found. It seemed that when her power source had been destroyed, her contracts with the many McKinley High graduates had also been nullified and several powerful alumni were seeking retribution. Sue's office was empty and Figgins had apparently told Mr. Schue that she was MIA. Kurt didn't trust that she'd be gone forever, not when glee club was the source of her current powerlessness. But he figured it would be a while before she'd be a threat again, so, as with Karofsky, he carried on .

Kurt's first week back had been crazy; he had a lot of catching up to do. With his schoolwork, his glee-club assignments, and his family. It had really been non-stop. He hadn't been _avoiding _Blaine or "the talk." He'd been texting Blaine back throughout, though it had mostly been messages like, "_crazy day today, maybe tomorrow,"_ or "_are you sure you're ready yet?"_

However, when Kurt had finally summoned the courage to not run from this, whatever this was, he'd finally settled on Friday afterschool. Their one month anniversary from their first coffee date, he didn't mind mentioning in the text.

As they sat in their table tucked into the back corner of the Lima Bean, they awkwardly tried to engage what would be their hundredth interaction and first real conversation. Kurt was afraid that Blaine was going to interrupt him at any moment and cut right to the business of dumping him, so he didn't maintain eye contact, instead opting to focus intently on the ridges of his coffee sleeve. When Kurt had finally brought Blaine up to speed, he looked up.

Instead of a glare, however, Kurt was met with Blaine's head propped on the hand as he leaned forward on the table, looking intently back at him.

"Um…" Kurt said after a while, blushing.

"I'm sorry," Blaine turned away when he realized how he'd been staring. "It's just…your voice…"

"I know," Kurt deflated, "I know. It's my curse. I sound like a girl. And, according to some, I dress like a girl to boot. Every boy-who-likes-boys' fantasy." He sighed, "Probably not what you were expecting."

"That's," Blaine hesitated, "not what I was going to say at all."

"Oh?" Kurt asked.

It was Blaine's turn to blush, "I _really_ like it. A lot. It's, um, really unique. I had no idea what I'd been missing."

"Oh." Kurt repeated, pausing, "So, when you were praising _his_ voice, that wasn't just the spell talking?" Kurt asked, shyly.

"Absolutely not; that was all me," Blaine said confidently.

Kurt grinned. He decided to pursue this thread of conversation, testing the waters a little more. Besides, he was curious. "How much of it was actually you, then? During the spell, I mean."

Blaine huffed and scratched his head, squirming slightly in his seat, "Yeah, well, the spell. It was really strange, you know? When I was under; it was kind of like I was dreaming. Actually, more like a nightmare. Everything I did, everything I said, it was all so passive; like I was watching it on TV. Like it was happening to someone else and I couldn't do anything about it. There were a couple of times when you'd do something or say something, and I could feel myself surface. But when I'd try to say something, it was almost like I was underwater. Like water filling the lungs…of my brain….which makes no sense…" Blaine sighed, "None of this is making sense."

Kurt shook his head, "You were under hypnosis Blaine; I don't think it's meant to make sense. But I think I get what you're saying. You remember everything-"

"Yeah"

"-but you weren't driving."

"Yeah," Blaine nodded. "I mean, no, I wasn't driving. Pretty much everything was _other _Blaine, yeah."

But as Kurt took in Blaine's words, he realized that this may not have been the best subject to pursue. All of this was his fault; Kurt would be furious if it were the other way around. Guilt seized his insides. If this was the end, Blaine had to know just how bad he felt about it.

"I'm so sorry," Kurt began, welling up. "You must hate me, but you need to know how sorry I am."

"Hate you?" Blaine asked worriedly, "Why would you think that?"

Kurt's lip trembled as he hurriedly explained. "Why wouldn't you? None of this would have happened if it wasn't for me. I risked my friend's voices, your freedom, everything. All because I was a coward. You didn't ask for any of this; I just happened to you and I'm sorry and you need to know that before you-"

But Blaine had quickly started talking over him, "Woah, Kurt. Calm down."

A tear ran down Kurt's cheek as he whined. He needed to get this out. "Please just know how so very sorry I am-"

"Kurt, seriously, stop," Blaine took Kurt's hand, lacing his fingers in between. "I mean, would I have preferred not being brainwashed for like a week? Yes. But I don't _blame_ you. You don't need to apologize."

"But…" Kurt wiped away the tear, "since the spell broke, and I told you everything, you've been so distant."

"I know and I'm sorry," Blaine sighed. "I think back to last Saturday and, it's just…it was _a lot_ to absorb. You suddenly had a voice and I was kind of foggy from being under hypnosis and we kissed on stage in front of everyone, and then you explained everything…I had about twenty things to process, you know? I'm sorry if that came across as me pushing you away; I guess I kind of was but only so I could think about things."

"What kinds of things?" Kurt asked tentatively.

But Blaine still seemed to be in his head a bit before he focused on Kurt's face again, "Listen, just promise me you'll stop beating yourself up over the spell. Don't apologize for it; it's not your fault."

Kurt was confused. "So, if you're not breaking up with me because of the spell, then why?"

"Wait, what?" Blaine was alarmed. "'Why'what?"

Kurt sobbed, "Why are you breaking up with me?"

"Kurt," Blaine tugged at his hand, "I'm not. I don't want to. I want to be with you. Isn't that obvious?"

Kurt's heart leapt and he sat in silence for a moment. But as he thought about it more, he was still frustrated and confused. "If you didn't want to break up with me, why did you want to 'talk?'"

"Um, because we have a lot to talk about?" Blaine looked at him sideways. "Now that we actually can, I've been wanting to talk about us."

"Us?" Kurt echoed.

"Yeah, us. As in, us _together_." Blaine laughed, but then added seriously, "Not broken up."

Kurt sat, stunned. _He still wants there to be an "us."_

Blaine pressed on, "I mean, you've told me about the deal, and the spell, and the after effects of it being broken. But you're kinda forgetting why all this happened in the first place." He became bashful, "Because you're in love with me."

Kurt was still taking this wonderful information in; he'd been putting this off for a week, only anticipating the worst possible outcomes. And none of them were becoming a reality. Reality was better than he could have possibly hoped for. He was flooded with relief and a renewed confidence.

After a moment, the corner of his mouth crooked into a coy smirk. "Well aren't we full of ourselves?"

Blaine burst out laughing and slapped the table, pointing at Kurt as he leaned back in his chair. "See that…_that_ is what I imagined you'd sound like."

Kurt tilted his head curiously, "You thought I'd sound like a girl? Do I look like I sound like a girl?"

"No!" Blaine practically jumped in his seat. "No I didn't-, not that you-, ugh. I'm saying this wrong." Kurt continued to stare. "I had no idea what the _pitch_ of your voice would sound like, but I always had the _tone_ very clear in my head. From all your texts."

"That makes no sense to me." This whole talking thing was new to both of them.

"Yes, well clearly I'm not as good as communicating as you because, trust me, it makes perfect sense."

"Ahh yes," Kurt nodded sarcastically, "I'm an excellent communicator. This whole thing happened because I was aces at communication."

"Well," Blaine began, "I get there were things you didn't feel like telling me right away, and there other things I get you flat-out couldn't tell me because of the spell. But yes, I agree, there are some things you should have let me in on."

Kurt opened his arms slightly before crossing his legs and taking a sip, "Ask away."

"The first thing that comes to mind is Sectionals. You've sang the right song, you've wrote me a vague letter, but everything's been so surreal that I'd just really appreciate you saying it. Out loud."

Kurt nodded. That was fair, "Yes, it was real."

"And it was you?"

"Obviously," Kurt said lightly. "I just…it was weird while it was happening, and it would have been awkward to come to you as a stranger and tell you it actually happened. And then when I got to know you and you weren't just some fantasy guy for me anymore, it became harder and harder with each passing day to be like, 'Oh yeah, by the way, we _actually _made out for the first time months ago,' Also, I couldn't explain the voicelessness, so…"

"I still would have accepted it," Blaine offered.

"Would you have?" Kurt asked, suspiciously.

"Well, yeah," Blaine shrugged. "I think so; I mean, you seemed so _familiar _and I'd read up on mutism-"

Kurt's eyes narrowed, "Yes, I remember." He took a sip.

"_I'm_ sorry," Blaine hung his head. "I didn't mean to hurt you when I said that; that was pretty much the spell latching onto some doubts I'd had for a while and using them to push you away. I'd felt you hum, remember? But I couldn't hear it. I was confused, because I knew you weren't being honest with me, but I didn't know what about. And when I was under the spell, being around you, talking to you about anything that threated to remind me of _us; _it was excruciating. The whole brain-drowning thing. I think I said that as some sort of self-preservation; or maybe it was the spell trying to maintain itself. But I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Kurt sighed, turning away to stare out the window. "You weren't wrong. I _was_ lying."

"Yeah, but I didn't _know_ that and I should have been more sensitive and…"

Kurt brought his finger to Blaine's lips. "How about we make it a 'no apologies' rule for things that were out of either one of our hands?"

Blaine exhaled slowly, "Deal."

Kurt removed his finger and started swirling his coffee again.

"So…" Blaine began, "Was I worth it?"

Kurt stared at Blaine with amusement, "As much as I'd like to inflate your ego, Prince Charming, transferring wasn't all about you. It was mostly to get out of that shitty school so I could breathe. Though I won't deny that the opportunity to meet you, for real, was quite the cherry on top."

"Oh yeah?" Blaine smirked, "And was I everything you imagined?

"Blaine Anderson!" Kurt chided, "I just said that this wasn't all about you." Kurt looked down, coyly answering, "But yes, you were everything I imagined and more."

Blaine grinned cockily.

"Okay, you have to stop that, now" Kurt scoffed. "It's very unattractive."

But Blaine continued to grin, biting his lip, very self-satisfied.

"Yes, that's it. I've changed my mind. You're awful, and not worth it and I'm leaving," Kurt teased, pretending to get up and leave. Blaine played along and grabbed his arm to stop him, and Kurt slowly sat down, giggling.

"It's just," Blaine laughed, "it's so funny. I've spent this whole month thinking that _you_ were _my_ fantasy guy; like, I wasn't kidding when I told you that you're like…the incarnation of _several_ of my daydreams. Now that I know that one dream wasn't actually a dream, everything makes a little more sense, but, yeah; to hear it back, from your _lips; _it's pretty validating."

"Yeah…I've been thinking about that," Kurt's grin quirked sideways. "I don't know how I feel about that, to be honest. I think I cheated-"

Blaine's eyes were wide with panic. "When? With who?"

"No! No no no," Kurt assured, waving his hands wildly. "Not _cheated_. I mean, I think," Kurt was feeling the full weight about how sensitive this train of thought made him, "how do you know you really l-like me?"

Blaine blinked, clueless. "I don't…sorry?"

Kurt cleared his throat; this was difficult to say aloud and he wanted to say it properly. "When you told me you thought you loved me, you said that then too; that I was your 'Dream Guy.' To my credit, I am the 'Dream Guy,' so that's okay, I guess, but…I feel like I snuck in there and planted that in your brain. Subliminally. Like _Inception_."

"Well, it wasn't a dream Kurt…" Blaine was still unsure about Kurt's point.

Kurt sighed. "What I mean is, yes, it really happened, but you didn't think it did. So in your mind, you _thought _you had this preconceived notion of what you wanted…but…_I _did that."

"Okay. So?"

"_So,_" Kurt was going to have to spell this out for Blaine, "you liked me because I reminded you of this dream guy, who _was _me, but you've romanticized him because you thought he-, I-, ugh whatever!" Kurt was exasperated at the confusing pronouns, "You thought it was a dream."

There was silence from Blaine as he tried to process Kurt's line of reasoning.

"Given all that…" Kurt's voice became barely audible, "how can _either_ of us know whether you like me_ for me_?" Blaine was still quiet, so Kurt added, "I mean, you're a really nice guy. But, for example, would you have gone out of your way to befriend me on my first day at Dalton if I hadn't reminded you of dream-me?"

Blaine started to fiddle with the sleeve on his coffee cup.

"You can reassure me anytime here, Blaine…" Kurt sniped.

"Sorry!" Blaine jumped, "I'm just trying to give this honest consideration. I really hadn't looked at it that way before. My feelings for you were so…_easy_. They were just there, you know? I didn't give a lot of thought as to _why_…"

"See?" Kurt sounded annoyed, his suspicions confirmed. "_Inception_. I'm DiCaprio."

"But, no!" Blaine began to panic again, "Okay, so yes. I guess you're right in that I was _initially_ attracted to you because of all that. But, one," he started counting off on his fingers, "even if you planted that idea of the perfect guy in my brain, you couldn't have made me attracted to him if I wasn't going to be anyway. Unless you have magic powers too that I should know about."

Kurt shook his head.

Blaine grinned. "Otherwise, what I find appealing is up to me, and I found that guy very, _very_ appealing."

Kurt visibly softened slightly.

"And two," Blaine continued counting off his fingers, but spoke more slowly as Kurt became more receptive, "even if that's the reason it started, it wouldn't have kept on going if I didn't find new things to like about you every moment we were together. I know I've got 'hopeless romantic' tattooed on my forehead, but give me _some_ credit. And give yourself some, too. I didn't _make up_ things to like about you to sustain some fantasy; I kept falling and falling for you because you were you. Kurt-"

Blaine outstretched his hand, wrapping his fingers around Kurt's.

"That dream was nice and romantic, but that dream person sang to me, and I didn't even think you could sing. And that was a non-issue because I wanted you. I want _you_."

"Hmm," Kurt mused, "So how did you fall so easily for _Vance?_"

"Oh god," Blaine looked disgusted. "That was hell. The whole time I was under, I was _screaming_ at my other self. I didn't know if that _was_ the guy from my dream or not, but as much as hypnotized-me seemed to be into him, _I _couldn't stand him. He was so prissy and stuck up and such a diva-"

"Those are some of my better qualities," Kurt looked offended.

"No!" Blaine started, "well, yeah, okay, _sometimes_ you can be like that, but you wear it well-"

"Thank you."

"…and that's not all there is to you. At all. You're also really sweet, and considerate, and witty and vulnerable and you just feel so much. And this guy was like some twisted version of you, like someone took an unflattering snapshot of you and had blown it up, person-sized. And all _I _wanted was you, the real you, and I had to sit there and watch passively as I kissed him and-"

"Can we not?" Kurt piped up. He had been touched by what Blaine was saying, but his voice quickly became annoyed, monotonous, "I've already accepted it was a spell, but I'll never forgive you if you let me in on exactly how far you got with _him_."

"Yeah," Blaine looked away, "I don't think Vance is too keen to relive it, either…"

Kurt drummed his fingers on the table, expectantly. He didn't want to hear Blaine say the name Vance ever again, but Blaine had something to share, and they were sharing now.

Blaine looked like he was going to say something, but then a light went off in his eyes and instead he twisted in his chair to reach into his jacket pocket, tongue sticking out the side of his mouth as he was clearly searching by feel. Finally, he found what he was looking for and dropped the item on the table between them.

Kurt studied the item for a time. "Burn it," he ordered simply.

"It's yours, though," Blaine countered.

"I saw you wipe his mouth with it," Kurt scrunched up his nose.

"But, it's a McQueen-" Blaine reasoned.

"You called him '_babe' _as you did it._"_ Kurt recounted, repulsed.

"I _know_," Blaine shared Kurt's disgust.

"If you _ever_ call me 'babe_,_' we're through."

"I won't, I promise."

"I'll disown you. I'm not kidding. About that, or _it._"

"But, it's so romantic! It's a token of the first time we met-"

"_Burn it_" Kurt repeated.

Blaine was defeated. "Fine." He swept it off the table and walked over to the nearest garbage can. He held it over top, looking to Kurt, indicating that this was his last chance to save it. Kurt's expression was resolute, and Blaine sighed, letting go.

As he marched back to the table, Kurt breathily asked, "Where did you get it anyway? Last time I saw it, it was tied oh-so-delicately around Vance's wrist." Kurt failed at biting back any residual jealousy.

"I saw him Monday morning, outside the secretary's office. I guess he was trying to un-enrol…" Blaine ran his fingers through his hair, "He's from Westvale High, the school Aural Intensity is from, you know? His parents had been looking for him for days; he just went missing when your Coach hit him with the spell. He sounds nothing like you, by the way. He even carried himself differently than he did under the spell. He has very bad posture."

Kurt straightened in his chair, trying to hide his pride and satisfaction. It was delightful to hear that Blaine didn't even consider Vance to be Kurt's competition.

Blaine continued, "It was really awkward after I apologized. I didn't really know what I was apologizing for, but when I started talking about us under the spell, he just got this scared look on his face. He kept eying me like I was about to attack him. Like I was some predator. He basically ran away from me, all freaked out. He made it _very_ clear that he was straight."

Kurt and Blaine caught each other's eye. They tried to suppress their reaction, but they both burst into hysterics.

"Oh!" Kurt clutched his side, "Oh dear, I shouldn't be laughing but," he tried to catch his breath as he giggled, "I mean he was technically a victim too, but, ah, screw him!"

"Lucky for him, I didn't!" Blaine chuckled heartily.

"_Thank god,_" Kurt croaked out, still laughing, "If anyone's going to have that honour, it should be-"

But Kurt caught himself and went dead silent. His eyes started to flicker aimlessly. He blushed and turned away, suddenly incredibly interested in the fabric of his cream winter scarf.

"Kurt…" Blaine pleaded. "Kurt come on."

"Nope."

"Don't shut down on me-"

"It's been a problem since I got my voice back-"

"Please?"

"It's like I have no filter because I didn't _need_ a filter-"

"We _really_ need to talk about this."

"And now I say every stupid thing that pops into my head-"

"Talking about this isn't stupid, Kurt."

"Do we _really_ need to talk about this? Here?" Kurt countered, looking around, nervously. He gazed up to the barista with the pierced nose who was staring into space; if she was paying attention and strained enough, she could probably overhear most of their conversation.

"There's no-one nearby to overhear," Blaine started but Kurt signalled to 'Gwenifer.' Blaine turned around to glance and then scoffed, rolling his eyes, "She doesn't count; can you remember her serving us not completely baked? And yes, we do need to talk about this. I've got these two completely different versions of you in my head, and now that you can actually talk to me, and are willing to talk to me, I'd really appreciate you resolving them."

Kurt cringed; he'd really rather not. Not here. But this was important to Blaine, and Blaine had put up with so much and been forgiving for all of it. Kurt cleared his throat and turned to Blaine, his fluttering eyelashes giving away that he was feigning courage. "Go on."

Blaine was silent for a moment, choosing his words carefully, "I understand that your encounter with Karofsky was…traumatic, and it really affected you. Like, if it scared you from doing anything sexual, I totally get that and I'd never want to push you into _anything_ you didn't want to do and if you want to only hold hands for the rest of your life-"

"I don't!" Kurt cut Blaine off, his reluctance to speak evaporating as Blaine's words worried him. He smirked, tightening his grip on Blaine's hand reassuringly and running his finger over the back of Blaine's hand, seductively. "Well, I don't _only_ want to hold hands…"

"But, see?" Blaine indicated to Kurt with his free hand, motioning up and down. "There's…_that_. There's the sexy you! Who was grinding all over me and kissing me and writing me incredibly provocative notes. The you who looked _so hot_ as I was-" Blaine caught himself and looked around, lowering his voice, "okay, getting why this conversation is not appropriate in public."

He leaned forward , arms folded over the table. "But, still, there's _that_ Kurt. Who was up for anything, anywhere and just thinking about it makes me-" Blaine closed his eyes, groaned and turned his head away.

"Hey," Kurt leaned across the table after a moment, placing his hand softly on at Blaine's arm, "It's okay. Thinking about you, that way, does that that to me too."

But Blaine kept his eyes closed, "Yes, but then I think about how you reacted, because what happened to you, and I can't help but feel…guilty."

"Guilty?" Kurt was concerned, "Why on earth would you feel guilty?"

"Because I pushed you…"

Kurt let out a short laugh, in spite of the tone of the conversation. "You didn't push me! You're a hell of a temptation, Blaine, but you didn't make me do anything I didn't really want to do."

"You weren't ready for me to," Blaine whispered, "_go down on you. _You were clearly so scared and I ignored it…"

Kurt rubbed his arm through the fabric of his blazer, "Believe me, I'm so glad you did because, hello? Worth it! And you didn't know, so-"

"Yes, but, still" Blaine let out a slow breath, "I know now. So I should still be sensitive to what happened to you. But I still can't help thinking about you, you know, _that way_."

"Oh," Kurt didn't know what to say. He still wasn't quite understanding Blaine's dilemma.

Blaine continued, "I just need for you to help me out here, because I'm still confused as to what's okay for you. Like, what your boundaries are. Because I've got two completely different sets of rules with you kicking around in my head. I think, if I knew that, then I could think about you, and us, more…properly."

Kurt quirked an eyebrow, "You're afraid of violating me in your mind?"

"And in real life, but basically, yes." Blaine nodded.

Kurt leaned back, setting his chin on the interlinked fingers as he propped his elbows on the table. It was Kurt's turn to mull things over. Through everything, he knew that in the back of his mind, he'd been screwing around Blaine's head with his erratic attitude towards sex. But he was so busy dealing with his own conflicting feelings that he hadn't really taken Blaine's perspective into consideration. Kurt supposed to an outside observer, his behaviour had been slightly schizophrenic. He needed to explain.

"Okay, well, first off, I don't know exactly what's going on in your thoughts, but it's probably no more…_inappropriate_ than my fantasies. I had a couple months on you in that department, so if you feel guilty, then I probably have some atoning to do as well," Kurt blushed, but he maintained eye contact with Blaine, who relaxed.

"That's…okay," Blaine waved his hand, "I pardon thee."

"As I thee," Kurt giggled, "As for doing…stuff. I want to, okay? Like, a lot. Too much, almost. I'd never let myself feel these kinds of feelings before; I told you, I couldn't even watch _porn_." Kurt whispered the word, "I found the whole thing uncomfortable. Until I met you and we started… and I _crave _it now. And that's kind of scary but it's also amazing. I don't want to stop because you make me feel so good."

Blaine didn't say anything, merely groaning at his confession.

Kurt shrugged. "I guess we'll have to figure out 'boundaries' as we go. Maybe it would be better if I initiated? I promise I'm not as frigid as I came across when I freaked out."

"But you _did_ freak out." Blaine said warily.

Kurt considered him for a moment, "Yeah, I'll admit, I have some issues. But I'm figuring out that the best way to get over them is to work through them. With you, if possible."

Kurt wished there was a pill that diverted blood-flow away from his cheeks, and then he realized there was and then his mind went _there_ and he blushed harder.

Blaine brightened and he nodded sheepishly. "Is that why you were so…um," he coughed, "eager?"

"Oh, no." Kurt waved his hand, "I didn't even know that I had issues until we…got into it. I was too busy trying to get that damn kiss of true love from you to break the sp-, oh."

Blaine's head crinkled in confusion.

"Uh…" Kurt's eyes were wide. He'd conveniently left that aspect of the spell out of the story when he'd narrated it to the Warblers a week ago.

"Kiss of true love?" Blaine pressed.

Kurt played dumb, "Did I forget to mention that?"

Kurt watched as Blaine's face went from confused to bewildered to frustrated to downright angry.

"Wait, so…oh, oh god, Kurt!" Blaine was visibly upset as realization dawned on his face, the various puzzle pieces of Kurt's odd behaviour and vague description of the spell finally clicking into place. "The flirting, the groping, Rachel's party! All of that was to break the spell?"

_Crap!_ Kurt thought. Blaine was getting the completely wrong idea, "Not _just _to break the spell!"

"Every time you'd say that you loved me-"

"I do, though!"

Blaine's back stiffened, "You were trying to manipulate me to fall in love with you?"

Okay, so not the _completely _wrong idea. Kurt bit his lip, "'Manipulate' is such a harsh word…"

"Kurt!" Blaine was fuming, "Maybe you were right; maybe you did _Inception_ me!"

"I'm sorry, okay?" Kurt whined, "I just…I already loved you, and you seemed to be into me too, when you were drunk on the floor-"

Blaine's eyes flared.

Kurt's speech sped up, defensive, "It didn't seem like that much of a leap, and it was kind of a romantic condition and, _hey_, can I get some sympathy here? If you recall, we kissed _a lot_ and you told me you loved me like fifty times. And I didn't get my voice back! That was hell for me!"

But Blaine didn't back down at Kurt's deflection. If anything, he seemed insulted. It would appear that, with regards to Kurt's poor behaviour through this whole mess, Blaine had passed the breaking point on his understanding. Kurt's body stiffened, preparing mentally and emotionally for Blaine to _finally_ reject him.

Blaine lowered his gaze. "I _do_ love you, you ass."

Kurt relaxed, but he was still repentant. "I know…" Kurt trailed off. He added, timidly. "I love you too."

"Mmm?" Blaine raised his eyebrows, mockingly.

"I do!" Kurt pleaded. "At least, I do now…"

"Now?" Blaine balked.

"I think…" Kurt let out a breath, "it wasn't you; it was me. That kept the spell from breaking. I saw you and then I met you and, like I said before, I had never felt like that about _anyone_. It was all so overwhelming and, looking back on it now, it seems stupid, but I thought that infatuation was love. But it wasn't."

Blaine deflated and Kurt felt the insistent urge to keep talking because there was more and Blaine was taking this wrong.

"What I mean is…I had to let myself trust you. I'd been holding onto so many secrets for so long, I'd forgotten what it was like to be honest with anyone," Kurt's frantic tone settled into something more sincere, "But once I did, and I saw that you still wanted me, despite my past and in spite of my faults, I could…feel it. I love you, Blaine. Really."

Blaine softened, his anger visibly ebbing away. After a few minutes, he relaxed. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah," Blaine nodded. "How about that? I forgive you."

"Thank you," Kurt felt the tension concentrated in between his shoulder blades disappear.

Blaine said nothing. He simply picked Kurt's hand off the table and brought it to his lips, both a sign of affection and a pardon.

Kurt sighed. "If only…"

"If only what?" Blaine queried.

Kurt smiled, wistful, "If only I'd realized that before…if only I'd been more honest…if only our kissing had broken the spell because that would have been so damn romantic!" He sighed again, "A whole month's worth of build-up, fantasizing about that moment a hundred different ways…and it's never going to happen."

Kurt didn't hide his disappointment; he still hadn't quite come to terms with his lost fairy-tale ending.

"Yes, well…" Blaine chuckled, and Kurt's heart leapt at Blaine's humour returning, "It would seem there's disappointment all around." Kurt tilted his head, silently asking for clarification. "We both seem to have fantasies about you getting your voice back that won't be coming true."

Kurt blinked. "Do tell."

Blaine was clearly embarrassed, but he wasn't backing down, "Remember when I said I couldn't help thinking about you like _that_? Well, when I looked up mutism and found out it was an anxiety disorder, I got this stupid idea in my head that I could fix you. By, uh, _relaxing_ you."

It took Kurt a few seconds to absorb Blaine's meaning, "You mean…"

"Yeah, I had all these elaborate scenarios worked out. I couldn't stop thinking that it would be the hottest thing in the world if the first time I heard your voice was," and Blaine lowered his voice to an almost inaudible whisper, "_when you were screaming my name as I made you come._"

Kurt's body stiffened. His heart pounded in his chest as his pace quickened. His nerves set ablaze and his mouth went dry.

He couldn't tell if he was _this_ Kurt or _that_ Kurt; whoever he was, he was downright appalled that he could be turned on that much, that quickly. "I, uh…"

"Oh, crap!" Blaine panicked, angry with himself. "I'm sorry, Kurt. It was too much."

"No! I, uh…" Kurt was desperately trying to find the words. He hadn't been struck speechless in weeks. Not figuratively, anyway. The sensation on its own was overwhelming. "I could…uh…do that."

"What?"

"If…if you wanted," Kurt was trembling, "I could…hold back…making noise…until…if it turned you on."

Blaine's pupils exploded. He not-so-subtly adjusted himself in his chair.

He swallowed back a groan, "No."

"No?" Kurt desperately needed a modicum of moisture to return to his mouth.

"Well, um, not for a while, at least," Blaine explained, voice thick with arousal. "Not when that means I'd be missing out on your amazing voice. I want to hear _every_ sound it can make."

A beat passed between them.

"Do you-?" Kurt started.

"Want to get the hell out of here? Yeah."

Blaine pulled his winter coat on and grabbed both their empty coffee cups as he headed for the trash without looking back at Kurt.

Kurt frantically followed, snatching his scarf from around the back of his chair and picking up both his and Blaine's messenger bags, trying to catch up with his boyfriend.

"Where are we going?"

"Not sure yet. But I'll drive."

As they both exited the Lima Bean, heading to Blaine's car, Kurt managed to get out, "Maybe we should talk about what we're going to do?"

Blaine paused at the driver-side door. After a beat, "What we did last time, if you're okay with it."

Kurt nodded profusely. He was _so_ okay with it.

Blaine voice cracked, "But, Kurt, you know how you've been asking to…reciprocate?"

Despite the chilly air, Kurt felt his face burn, "Yes."

"If you're comfortable…after…" Blaine caught Kurt's eye, "I wouldn't say no."

Kurt's response took the form of flinging open the car door and scrambling into the passenger seat. Blaine quickly followed suit.


	16. Wandering Free i

**Chapter 14a – Wandering Free**

"Hello?" Kurt hollered tentatively, "Anybody home?"

When silence expectantly, but thankfully, greeted him and Blaine, there was a rush to each other, a tangle of lips and limbs, and a rush to the top of the stairs. Which, in the frantic haze of arousal, Kurt could not recall with clarity exactly how he had climbed. But he was certain it involved stumbling and fumbling and bumping into the railing as his body was wrapped around Blaine's.

They reached the landing, panting as they pulled away from each other _just enough_ so what was between their bodies could be technically defined 'space.' Kurt sighed as Blaine's hands rested on his ass, leaning forward to press his forehead softly against his boyfriend's. Their eyes inches apart, Kurt blinked, his lip curling in the corner of his mouth as he took in the hazel in Blaine's eyes shrinking to almost nothing against the filling pools of black.

"Shower?" Kurt pretended to ask.

Blaine whined in response, "Want you now."

Kurt understood completely; he was tingling at the thought of just undressing Blaine there and-

"_Shower_," Kurt insisted. Spontaneity or not, proper hygiene had always been part of the plan; a part to which Kurt was most certainly going to adhere.

Blaine's expression was a mixture of need and frustration, ultimately culminating in him pulling away wordlessly as he marched in the direction of Kurt's bathroom, stripping off his red sweater and leaving it carelessly on the hall floor without looking back. Kurt clicked his tongue as he watched Blaine's backside with desire, shedding his own cream jacket and quickly trailing behind.

Kurt didn't know how Blaine got off acting inconvenienced. This was completely his fault, after all. Kurt was merely trying to minimize the collateral damage of his boyfriend's recklessness.

Kurt's mind had been far from the gutter twenty minutes ago, when he'd been recounting the events prior and post New Directions 12th place finish at Nationals. He'd even kept it clean as Blaine had sarcastically quipped that Rachel and Finn's show-smooch had been "unprofessional." Whether it was taking the lead on the final duet from his favourite musical, or ripping off his climactic competition kiss with _decidedly less flair_, Rachel had a knack for stealing Kurt's thunder.

Blaine had been right, though; Kurt _wasn't_ that upset because "It was still amazing! I mean, I flew on a plane for the first time in my life. I had breakfast at Tiffany's. I sang on a Broadway stage…" And Kurt had realized that putting _it_ off had been the right decision because, given everything that he had experienced in New York, he wouldn't have been able to absorb anything properly had they gone through with _it_ before.

But then Blaine, _the utter bastard_, had had the nerve to tilt his head in his palm, close his eyes and throw out a casual "I love you."

Kurt had nearly choked, mid-sip of his non-fat mocha. Blaine's declaration hitting him like tidal wave, simultaneously setting his heart alight and his skin ablaze because _Really? Now? _

It hadn't been so much the words themselves, as Blaine said them all the time in a million different contexts, and Kurt was of course prone to the same shameless behaviour when it was just the two of them. But Blaine's tone, that deeply sincere sigh coupled with the seemingly innocuous phrase, had become code for '_I want you right now, so it'd be lovely if you'd 'initiate'.'_ And that _always_ ended in orgasms. Kurt could hardly be blamed if he had developed a damn near Pavlovian response_._

_But,_ Kurt had thought as he swished the liquid around in his mouth, _this isn't the plan_.

In all fairness, the original plan had gone to hell three weeks prior when McKinley High's Junior Class had silently retaliated against Karofsky's bullying ban by electing Kurt their Prom Queen, humiliating him and quite thoroughly killing the mood. Luckily the hotel room, booked with a fake ID provided happily free-of-charge by Puck, had been inexpensive. They'd stayed there until 1 AM, past Blaine's generously extended 11:30 curfew, cuddling fully clothed instead. Blaine had comforted Kurt, assuring him that the plan was still on, but they were just going to have to wait a little bit longer. But then the stress of not preparing for Nationals had hit and Kurt had realized it was perhaps best to wait. They'd rebooked the hotel for the Friday after New Directions returned home from New York.

However, as Kurt had studied Blaine's contented smile in the Lima Bean, he'd gotten it. Blaine was merely being his wonderful, understanding self, yet again. And Kurt wanted to make love to him right there.

Kurt's main issue with the plan had been that it was something to anticipate. Kurt had learned the _delightfully_ hard way, when his voice had been taken, that he was no shrinking violet. In the three months he and Blaine had been together, they had done practically everything up to, but not including actual sex. With every instance eagerly initiated by Kurt. However, given Kurt's past near-assault, and of course the shaky first month of understandable miscommunication, not every time had run smoothly. They'd pieced together that the anxiety was accompanied by Kurt's overthinking certain situations or positions. Waiting three weeks, practically an eternity for a teen, risked putting on a pedestal what should have been a natural progression in their sexual relationship. Given all they had done, labelling it 'losing their virginities' seemed a bit overdramatic. But they still had yet to do it, and if Kurt was being honest, the elapsed time had fostered a few irrational doubts.

However, as Kurt had swallowed the caffeinated beverage, he'd resolved that _Okay, now is good,_ because he was happy and relaxed and suddenly, almost painfully turned on at Blaine's words. Were his legs not already crossed, the stirring in his pants would have forced him to cross them. He still had butterflies in his stomach, but they were mostly the good kind; the kind that didn't even have to reassure him that _he could do this_. He finally responded "I love you, too" and he meant it. Both the words themselves, and the '_I'm so game'_ masked stealthily beneath.

But when Sam and Mercedes had shown up together seconds later, Kurt and Blaine had been annoyingly forced to slip into their casual public personas. The ones that made people wrongly assume his relationship with Blaine was sexless; they rarely held hands, maintained a respectable distance and avoided public displays of affection altogether. Their official reasoning was that they wanted to avoid dirty looks, or worse, from less progressive-minded strangers. But in actuality, this behaviour had developed out of necessity to hide just how easily they could arouse each other; anytime, anywhere.

As Kurt happily ignored his friend's secret relationship, he'd silently cursed Blaine. Who'd had the audacity to get him all worked up, _in public_. Kurt had to act like he wasn't consumed with the need to grab Blaine, toss him in the back seat of his SUV, and mercilessly have his way with him back at his house. Which, as it was an early Tuesday morning, would be conveniently empty _for hours_.

Kurt's haze prevented him from caring that he was about to play hooky. Besides, ever since Prom, the faculty had been cutting him considerable slack. Watching Blaine with lust from across the table as his gentlemanly façade cracked, Kurt had realized he was about to take serious advantage of that slack. Kurt Hummel had had a pretty shitty year; he _deserved_ orgasms, damn it.

So after five excruciating minutes of politely conversing with Blaine, Kurt's friends took their coffees to go. After they'd left the shop, he'd practically leapt out of his chair, sashaying towards the exit. He had spun around on the spot and leaned languidly against the door, subtly crooking his finger in a 'come hither' gesture that he later planned to repeat _inside_ of Blaine, and quirked an eyebrow seductively. That Blaine's dapper persona could fall apart so easily was an endless source of amusement and excitement for Kurt; Blaine had loudly groaned and dashed to follow and hadn't said much of anything since.

But the sinfully distracting way that Blaine was kissing him now, as he undid the buttons to Kurt's shirt and slipped it delicately off his shoulders, spoke volumes.

Kurt returned the action and pulled Blaine's undershirt over his head, dropping it casually on the bathroom floor. Blaine let his hands roam over Kurt's exposed chest, his fingertips delicately tracing his pale, slight frame, finally gripping his waist as Blaine bent over and tentatively pressed soft kisses to Kurt's neck. The kisses became more desperate as Blaine's mouth moved lower down Kurt's body, forcing Kurt to moan with desire when Blaine's tongue circled his nipple. But when Blaine had dropped to his knees, trailing his mouth down Kurt's stomach the entire way, Kurt finally snapped out of his trance.

"_Blaine!_" Kurt half reprimanded, half squealed. He couldn't help the pitch with his boyfriend's tongue in his bellybutton and hands pulling at his fly.

Blaine had whimpered in response, "But you just showered, I can smell it, taste it-"

"Two hours ago," Kurt had countered breathily, gasping as Blaine started stroking the outline of his erection through his underwear, "It won't take long, and it will be hot."

Blaine merely nuzzled his face against Kurt's hardness, moaning his dissent.

"We can wash each other," Kurt offered between gasps, earning him a desperate growl from Blaine, "and after, since you feel the need to somewhat deviate from the plan, instead of hand-jobs, I'll let you blow me."

Kurt found it endlessly fascinating how that method of bribery worked. Every. Damn. Time.

Moments later, with the warm water jet massaging his back and Blaine kneeled at his feet, Kurt would unquestioningly deem it the best shower he'd _ever_ had. He braced one hand against the tiled wall as the other gripped Blaine's soaking curls, desperate for something to hold onto as Blaine moved his amazingly soft, warm mouth up and down Kurt's cock.

Kurt, prickling with pleasure and struggling to keep his balance, let out a litany of curse words. Which only egged Blaine on more. Without a voice, Kurt's first sexual lessons hadn't included vocal discretion. And since hearing just how versatile his voice could be was Blaine's biggest turn on, staying quiet while they were fooling around wasn't a habit Kurt had bothered picking up.

"So good _Blaine_, fuck yes, keep sucking, yes, please don't stop," the broken stream of encouragement fell from Kurt's lips involuntarily, and Blaine complied eagerly. He sucked harder and faster, sliding his lips up and down Kurt's shaft. One hand on his own cock, the other at the base of Kurt's, Blaine's hands jerked in time with the movements of his mouth.

Blaine hummed wantonly around Kurt. Those vibrations, along with the heat from the shower, the sensation of Blaine's mouth, and the amazing sight of Blaine looking up at him as he sucked, finally pushed Kurt over the edge.

"Blaine, Blaine, fuck, I'm going to-" and Kurt shallowly thrust forward into the wet heat of Blaine's mouth as he cried out his name, coming so hard he almost fell over. Blaine took everything he had, swallowing enthusiastically around him.

Blaine pulled off Kurt's cock, calling his name back as his hand sped up. It then stilled as he came too, the white liquid washing away in the shallow pool of water between his knees. His head fell forward, braced against Kurt's thighs.

Kurt's hand, still threaded through Blaine's hair, patted gently as Kurt came down from his high. Blaine was panting against the wet skin of Kurt's legs. Almost inaudible against the pitter-patter of the water hitting the ceramic tub, Blaine whispered, "Thank you," and Kurt had decided long ago that _that_ was never getting old.

He bent over to kiss Blaine, tongue dipping softly in his mouth as he let the kiss linger. Eventually Blaine had risen to meet him, arms wrapping around Kurt, slippery from the shower. They let the water run over them for several minutes as their mouths lovingly devoured each other.

After an indiscernible amount of time, the kiss broke and Kurt asked, "Ready for part one?"

Blaine ripped away the shower curtain and stepped out of the tub, holding a hand out to Kurt. "Ready if you are."

Kurt smirked, turning to shut off the shower, and gingerly took Blaine's hand. "Yes, absolutely."

The next thing Kurt knew, he was racing Blaine, naked, to his bedroom and diving onto his crisply made-up bed. "I win," he'd giggled cockily.

Blaine huffed, grabbed at his thigh and pulled Kurt's body almost clear off the bed before steadying him and pulling him up, kissing him fiercely. "We'll see. Do you have-?"

"Mmm, yes." Kurt moved to his nightstand and pulled out the necessary items, tossing them on his bed. He scooted backwards to let Blaine climb on, picking up the lube and snapping open the cap. As he poured a dollop of liquid on his palm, he looked at his boyfriend, asking him sincerely. "Are you nervous?"

But had Blaine's words when he'd responded "Definitely not" failed to reassure him, the lust dripping in his voice as he watched Kurt slick his fingers most certainly would have. "Are you?"

Kurt grinned, "Not even a little," ecstatic at his honesty. He braced his hands against Blaine's shoulders, wet fingers held away, and he started pressing soft kisses and licks to Blaine's torso. Blaine's head fell back and he gripped at the base of Kurt's neck as Kurt licked and teased and moaned.

"Mmm. Can't wait to be inside you."

"Can't wait to have you inside me," Blaine echoed, mumbling and stroking Kurt's neck as Kurt trailed lower and lower, hovering just above his cock. "How do you want me?"

Kurt's excitement quadrupled at the question and he felt the preliminary tremors of his cock starting to harden again. He considered it thoroughly as his mouth lavished affection on Blaine's sharp abs. They'd purposefully left this part vague, wanting wiggle-room for a bit of spontaneity in an otherwise very carefully laid out plan.

Kurt thought back to two weeks ago, when Blaine had accidentally banged his head against the backseat door of his dad's car as Kurt had pushed his finger in Blaine's ass for the first time. Blaine was an unstoppable involuntary thrasher when Kurt pleasured him, and Kurt's headboard was solid oak. He had enough pillows to safely break a fall off a five-story building, but with Blaine's flailing tendencies, Kurt didn't want to take any chances. Not their first time, anyway.

As his tongue circled Blaine's bellybutton and he pressed his open palms into the side of Blaine's stomach for purchase, Kurt decided, "On your stomach. I know it's not as romantic, but-"

But Blaine had already left Kurt's ministrations to follow his command, lying flat against the mattress. He grabbed a pillow to rest his chin on, hugging it to his chest, and then craning his head to look wantonly at Kurt. He begged, his voice cracking, "_Please_ just touch me."

Kurt groaned, "So bossy," but that was the kind of order he was thrilled to oblige. He settled himself on his knees, between spread legs, and ran his hands up the back of Blaine's thighs. Remembering too late that his hand was covered with lube, he leaned over Blaine to grab the bottle and pour out more. He spread Blaine's cheeks, pure need surging through him as he gazed. If he hadn't known all his life that he liked men, and somehow the past few months hadn't clued him in either, his instant, throbbing erection at the sight of Blaine's tight, wanting hole would not have left any traces of doubt.

Kurt squeezed the bottle over the base of Blaine's back and tossed it aside again. His first instinct was to dip his fingers in the tiny pool and run them down Blaine's crack, but instead Kurt opted to use both hands spread Blaine's cheeks further apart and dip his head in between. He experimentally swirled around Blaine's entrance, and he was instantly glad his hold on Blaine's ass was strong enough to resist the sudden jerk backwards. "Jesus _fuck_, Kurt. Your tongue!"

Kurt held Blaine against the mattress as he licked his hole mercilessly, earning him desperate whimpers and broken moans. Blaine was flailing already and Kurt hadn't even _done_ much of anything yet. Kurt swelled with pride and self-satisfaction at hearing how easily his otherwise charmingly composed boyfriend was coming apart at the seams. Before him, for him, because of him. His fingers dug into the globes of Blaine's ass, and with one last swipe around the outside, Kurt tried probing Blaine with his tongue. "Fuck fuck fuck, oh my god, _fuck_."

Despite Kurt's hold, he could feel Blaine trying to rut against the mattress, clearly desperate for more. After several moments of dipping his tongue in and out of Blaine's ass, he leaned back on his knees and replaced it with a slick finger, slowly pressing in and eliciting a long, throaty growl from Blaine. He repeated the motion, slowly the first few times, but he eventually picked up the pace. Kurt looked up at his boyfriend's scrunched up face, his head pressed hard against the pillow. Kurt was almost certain that was the response he was looking for but he needed to check before he proceeded. "Is this good?"

All he got was a hiss and broken vowels in response.

"Blaine?" Kurt's finger slowed.

"Ah-, ah-amazing," Blaine struggled, panting. "Don't slow down. Keep going. _More_."

Kurt pulled his finger out completely, causing Blaine to whine. He dipped into the slippery liquid again, and pressed two slick fingers back into Blaine, thrusting carefully with the same pace as before. When Blaine seemed to have adjusted to the new volume, Kurt added a third, and Blaine had bucked backwards against his hand. Kurt used his free hand to pin Blaine back down.

But when he crooked his fingers downwards, tips brushing the small lump that was his boyfriend's prostate, he realized all attempts to hold him down were futile. Kurt had to shift backwards when Blaine had pushed off the mattress, onto his knees, and started fucking himself on Kurt's hand. Kurt's hand met Blaine's backwards thrusts in kind, and soon Blaine groaned "I'm ready."

Kurt believed him, but he was still wary to dive right in; this was their first time and he wanted to make it as good for Blaine as he could. As painless as possible. "You sure?"

"Mmmm," Blaine nodded, unable to complete a sentence, "Feels so good. Been practising. Wanted to be ready for you. Wanted…easy..." But even that eloquence devolved quickly into a series of desperate grunts as he pushed back on Kurt's fingers, clearly wishing it was Kurt's cock instead.

Kurt didn't waste time. He withdrew all three fingers, eliciting another whine, and grabbed the condom at his side, tearing open the wrapper and fumbling for a moment before he got it on. Even though they were both virgins and neither one was in any danger of getting the other pregnant, they'd both decided that it was a responsible practise to instil right out of the gate as opposed to down the road, when the temptation to forgo safety may be more risky.

The pool of lube on Blaine's back virtually drained, Kurt grabbed the bottle one last time and slicked up his shaft, breaking eye-contact with Blaine's ass only momentarily as he revelled in the renewed stimulation. Finally, he moved forward, steadying one hand on Blaine's hip and gripping himself at the base. He teased his head outside of Blaine's entrance, situating there for half a minute at most before Blaine had begged "_Please, _Kurt," and he'd tentatively pushed forwards.

"Huuuuuh," Blaine had groaned.

"Oh my god, _fuck,_" Kurt shouted. He was only partially sheathed, but the feeling of Blaine, "_so good, so hot, so tight, oh my god, Blaine"_ was overwhelming. He gripped tightly at Blaine's hips, stilling himself. "Is it-?"

"Give me a minute," Blaine had also stilled.

It was so incredibly difficult to comply because every fibre of Kurt's being was telling him to thrust forward. But he resisted because Blaine needed time and he loved Blaine. Kurt panted, dying of anticipation. After a span of time passed, time that Kurt's impatient cock deemed 'far too long,' he could feel the muscles that were squeezing him to ecstasy relax just slightly, relieving only a fraction of the pressure but removing almost none of the pleasure.

Finally, Blaine said, "Okay, go, please" and Kurt slowly pressed in about half-way. As he pulled back and slowly thrust again to about the same depth, he felt sparks down to his core. Blaine's ass felt _incredible_. If this was what skipping class earned him, Kurt Hummel was never going to graduate.

As he slowly worked up a gentle pace, one hand gripping Blaine's side and the other stroking his lower back, he asked, "How does it feel?" When he only heard a hiss in response, he slowed, "Blaine?"

"It's big," Blaine eventually answered.

"I didn't mean me, Blaine," Kurt chuckled despite his current task, "I meant-,_ oh god. _I meant it, doing it. No longer being a virgin."

"Big," Blaine repeated, head falling forward, jerking his hips back slowly to meet Kurt's careful thrusts. "Later..."

Blaine was too far gone to talk and Kurt smiled at that, "Okay," He let himself be swept up in the sensation of Blaine's tight heat again. His hips jerked forwards with ever increasing intensity. But he knew that if he was going too fast or too hard that Blaine, his wonderful, amazing, gorgeous, oh-so-tight boyfriend, would speak up.

That didn't seem to be an issue however, as Blaine's upper body dropped back down into the mattress as his arms gave way. He writhed a bit but Kurt's dominant position mostly kept him in place. Eventually, Kurt slowed down enough to let Blaine grab another pillow to prop up underneath his chest.

Without pulling out, Kurt stilled his thrusts as he pushed Blaine's hips down into the mattress too. Blaine's knees also gave way, sticking out at sharp angles on either side of him. Kurt moved his arms forward, leaning over Blaine's arched back, and bracing each hand at either side of Blaine's upper body. He rolled himself down, his chest now flush with Blaine's back, and hooked his head over Blaine's shoulder.

Blaine's head craned around and met his lips with a kiss that made Kurt melt. He was on Blaine, over Blaine, in Blaine, and Blaine was _loving_ it.

When the kiss broke, Kurt whispered in his ear, "I love you, you know that?"

Blaine merely smirked, suddenly going dead silent. He didn't say a word or even grunt when Kurt shifted his weight, only biting his lip.

After a moment of worry, Kurt's eyes shot open, finally getting it. "Oh, you're _hilarious_!"

He snapped his hips back and thrust in all the way.

Blaine let out a deeply gratified wail, his head dropping onto the pillow below. Kurt could see Blaine's knuckles turn white at the edges of the fabric, but in that moment, it only spurred him on. "You love me too, right?" and his thrusts became quick and deep and hard as his tone became contemptuous, "I want to hear you _say_ you love me, too, Blaine."

But Kurt's actions and words were causing Blaine to crumble into a useless mess beneath him, moaning and writhing and taking each thrust with delight. As Kurt slammed into Blaine, the sound of skin slapping filled the room. Blaine rut against the mattress and Kurt could see him biting the pillow. If he couldn't help making noise, then he was at least going to resist Kurt's demands that he speak. _The mischievous fucker._

Kurt pushed himself up with his arms so there was considerable distance between his chest and Blaine's back, but he kept his pace strong. It wasn't long, however, before he could feel the tightness coiling up inside him, and he knew he was getting closer. But Kurt would be damned if he came before Blaine said what he wanted to hear.

Kurt confessed in his breathiest, most seductive voice, "I love you, Blaine. I love you, and you feel so amazing right now. I've never felt anything like this before in my life and I need you to tell me you love me too. That you're loving this and me and you _can't wait_ for me to do this to you again…"

It was hardly Shakespeare. But it had the intended effect as Blaine started to whine uncontrollably while Kurt thrust into him mercilessly. He dropped his head again, inches from Blaine's ear and whispered, half singing, "…c_ome what may._"

"Oh, god, _Kurt!_" Blaine moaned an ungodly moan, and Kurt thrust harder. "Kurt, oh god, I l-love you, I love you, I'm gonna-," and Kurt pounded Blaine through his orgasm, feeling Blaine rut harder and then finally still beneath him, letting out the most satisfied sounding gasp Kurt had ever heard.

Kurt's smiled, brimming with delight at his triumph, and utter satisfaction at his role in Blaine's gratification. He quickened his pace, only a few strokes from finishing before he snapped his head back and cried wordlessly, cock buried deep inside his boyfriend as he came too. He saw white, electricity seizing his body before he regained awareness and he collapsed overtop of Blaine.

Eventually, he pulled out, still hard but sensitive, and rolled to Blaine's side. Blaine propped one hand underneath his head as he rolled to face Kurt too, grinning from ear to ear. Kurt placed a hand at Blaine's hip, caressing him lazily there.

Blaine leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to Kurt's lips. Pulling back, joy still spread across his face, Blaine said, giddily, "We just made love."

"Mmm," Kurt sighed in agreement. He was still in the process of coming down, and in those seconds he wanted nothing more than to fall into a deep sleep.

"You love me," Blaine waggled his tongue.

"Mmm," Kurt added helpfully.

Blaine shuffled on his side, pulling their bodies closer and hooking his arm around Kurt. "Come on, admit it, you loved it."

"Mmmmmmm" Kurt's throat rumbled in mild annoyance. Why wasn't Blaine exhausted too? Kurt had seen the stain on his comforter when Blaine had rolled onto his side. Kurt smiled at that. He'd made Blaine come without either one of them touching his cock. That was fantastic.

Blaine pressed a soft kiss to Kurt's forehead. "It's okay, you don't have to say anything," and Kurt hummed in gratitude.

Blaine continued, "All I ever wanted…"

_Oh no._

"…all I ever needed…"

_No, he wouldn't._

"…is here in my arms."

Kurt squirmed away from Blaine's embrace.

And then Blaine started to sing, "_Words are very unnecessary, they can only do harm."_

"Oh. My. God. _Stop!_" Kurt slapped Blaine's side lightly.

But Blaine scrunched his face into his trademark lead soloist squint, mouth obnoxiously wide. "_Enjoy the silence…"_

Kurt rolled his eyes. "You sure know how to kill an afterglow."

"Well it would seem we both have tricks to get each other to talk," Blaine teased.

"Yes except mine's ten times sexier and a hundred times less lame," Kurt shot back.

"You sang too!" Blaine countered playfully. "During!"

"_Our_ song; not the stupid 80's synthpop you've ironically set as my personalized ringtone," Kurt buried his face in his hands.

"Aww, you get hot for me when I sing, don't lie. If you didn't, we wouldn't even be together," Blaine chuckled.

"_Lame,_" Kurt repeated through his palms.

He shifted to sit up, his cock finally softening and the condom feeling uncomfortably loose. He pulled it off delicately, face squeezed in slight disgust as he tied it at the end to ensure that none of the contents fell out. He then rolled across the bed to drop it in the wastebasket near his vanity. He grabbed a few tissues, wiping himself off, and handed a few to Blaine who did the same. They both tossed them to the edge of the bed; Kurt was going to have to wash his whole comforter anyway.

As he rolled back and stilled, he folded his hands underneath his head, resting against them and staring back at his boyfriend. The magnitude of the moment finally hit Kurt. Maybe 'losing your virginity' _was _a big deal.

"We just had sex. _Sex_ sex."

"I believe I covered that," Blaine nodded. "Though I prefer my phrasing."

"What did it feel like?" Kurt asked, awed.

"Weren't you there?" Blaine mocked, tilting his head.

"I'm serious," Kurt whined.

"I believe I covered that too," Blaine responded. At Kurt's look of confusion, he added, "Amazing, big, etcetera."

"I know that it felt like that _emotionally_," Kurt pressed. "I mean, physically, what was the sensation like?"

Blaine studied Kurt for a minute before replying, "Well, if you're still up for part two, I can show rather than tell."

They could show each other. Kurt grinned, nodding in agreement.

"Okay, but first? Food," Kurt pushed himself off the mattress. "Nothing too heavy, though."

"Agreed. We'll stick to carbs," Blaine followed Kurt off the bed.

"It'll go straight to my hips!" Kurt protested.

"Not if we work it off the way we're planning to!"


	17. Wandering Free ii

**Chapter 14b – Wandering Free**

They took another shower, all business this time, and put their pants back on, not bothering with their shirts. They then headed down to the kitchen, Kurt quickly putting together several Portobello cheese sandwiches which they both scarfed down with ferocity.

It wasn't even 11 am; they still had the whole day to themselves. Kurt checked his phone; no messages from Finn or his dad, so the school hadn't taken notice of his absence yet. Kurt didn't want to push his luck, but he also wanted the chance to do this at his own pace, so he suggested they watch some television for a bit, just to give them each some recovery time before the next round. He wasn't nervous or putting anything off; he just really wanted to lie in his boyfriend's lap on his couch while Blaine absently ran his fingers through his hair.

When Kurt turned his head to look up at Blaine, who had been smiling down at him, clearly not paying attention to the peril in Mystic Falls, Kurt had hooked his hand around the back of Blaine's neck and pulled him down for a kiss. Blaine's free hand started to brush over Kurt's exposed chest, lightly, delicately, never caressing below his navel. After a few moments like this, Kurt scooted upwards and straddled Blaine on the sofa, hands hooking behind his neck. He leaned in for a deeper kiss, settling himself overtop of Blaine's lap, and within no time at all their pelvises started move, renewed erections grinding through their pants. Waves of heat and desire buzzed through Kurt, and as he broke away from the kiss, gasping, but still rutting his cock against Blaine's.

"I think, I think I'm ready now." He said finally, and Blaine tugged his head down for another bruising kiss. Blaine's hand dropped to hook under his ass, and his free hand pushed them both off the couch, with Kurt's legs wrapping around Blaine as he stood. When Kurt realized what had happened, he pulled away and giggled, "My oh my, Mr. Anderson. Impressive."

"Yes, well," Blaine started, clearly proud of himself, but after a few seconds his body trembled, "uh, no offense but I'm not this strong and I'm going to drop you and-" but Kurt had already dismounted, standing flush against Blaine's body, arms still wrapped around him. Kurt rested his head on Blaine's shoulder and murmured contentedly as Blaine stroked his lower back.

"You sure you want to do this, Kurt? Don't get me wrong, I'd absolutely love to. But I'm already so happy at how today's gone already. I'd be perfectly content to leave it for another time, or not at all if you weren't comfortable." Blaine sounded genuine and Kurt's heart twisted with love.

"No, we should do this today," Kurt replied eventually, "One, it was part of the plan-"

"-the plan isn't set in stone, you know that-"

"-and two," Kurt ignored Blaine's interruption, "I really want to. We thought we both might be 'versatile,' as you called it, and your reaction earlier makes me really want to put that theory to the test." Kurt interlaced his fingers at the base of Blaine's back and pulled his head up to stare into his eyes. "Besides, if we put it off, it's just going to fester in my brain. I want to do this now, because I _want_ to do this, _now_."

Blaine pressed his lips softly against Kurt's. Millimeters apart, he whispered, "Okay, you're the boss."

"And don't you forget it," Kurt smirked seductively, bringing their lips together and almost biting Blaine's off, causing him to groan.

Moments later, Kurt was sitting against the headboard of his bed, resting against a pillow, with his legs spread wide and back curved so that his ass was exposed. He had his hand lazily stroking his cock, the lubrication in his hand adding a welcome sensation to the lubrication now being spread around his hole. Blaine was lying face-down on the bed in front of him, teasing the tender skin of his entrance while gently sucking on his sack.

Kurt did his best to keep his eyes open, to watch, mesmerized, as Blaine got off on Kurt falling apart. But Kurt _was_ falling apart, and he couldn't help closing his eyes, throwing his head back and gripping the sheets with his free hand at the overwhelming intensity of everything. Kurt had felt so awkward at the beginning; open, exposed, vulnerable. But that quickly evaporated as Blaine eagerly took care of him. Blaine always took care of him.

"Kurt, is it okay if I-" Blaine had asked after dropping his scrotum. Kurt nodded through closed eyes; Blaine had done this to him twice before and it had felt fantastic the second time, so he was confident he'd enjoy it again. Especially now, when they weren't worried about a curfew or being caught by passers-by who noticed rocking vehicles in playground parking lots.

He could feel the slick finger circle his hole, and finally, slowly, delicately, felt the pressure as Blaine pushed in. He felt himself clamp down involuntarily, his muscles tight and the intrusion unwelcome, but Blaine kissed the underside of his thigh, murmuring softly, "Shh, it's okay Kurt, I'm here, just keep stroking yourself and relax," and after a moment Kurt felt his body comply.

"You can move," Kurt said eventually, and Blaine did ever so slowly. Kurt took a few moments to adjust, spreading his legs wider and digging his toes into the comforter. He kept up the pace on his cock, far faster than Blaine's pace with his finger, until the discomfort subsided. "I'm okay now, try another."

"Hang on," Blaine said, and a second later Kurt nearly leapt off the bed as he was shocked with blinding intensity.

"_Blaine!_" he gasped, exasperated and shaking. He stroked himself harder and whined as Blaine's fingertip grazed his prostate again, "Oh my god, Blaine, Blaine, it's too much, but I need you to add more, please, please Blaine, _please._"

As he looked through droopy eyelids, he could see Blaine's awe and arousal, big mouthed grin stretched across his features. "Kurt, you look so-, you sound so-,"

"Blaine, _more_," Kurt commanded and scooted his ass forwards slightly, a not so-subtle hint.

Blaine snapped out of his trance and complied, pulling out only to push back in with two slippery fingers, which steadily built up a pace that Kurt adjusted to much more quickly than he had moments before. There was still a bit of discomfort, a few strokes that made him hiss with slight pain, but overall the sensation was wonderful. When Blaine added a third finger, licking his perineum as he firmly thrust, Kurt had gasped with delight and was forced to squeeze down tightly on his cock because he was getting too close, too quickly. Especially with Blaine using all three fingers to stroke against his prostate.

"Okay," Kurt managed, finally able to turn his mutterings into actual words, "okay, okay, god, come over here and take my place."

Blaine stopped his ministrations and pulled his fingers out of Kurt, eliciting a soft, high-pitched whimper. Blaine pushed himself off the mattress and Kurt moved away from the pillow to let Blaine sit against the headboard, his legs laid out flat in front of him.

Still stroking himself, Kurt bent over and grabbed Blaine's erection with his hands, sinking his mouth down. Blaine started to groan and hiss. Kurt bobbed his head, coating Blaine's shaft with spit as lips tightened softly around his firmness. He used his tongue ruthlessly, both while his mouth was around Blaine and the few times he pulled off to lick up the length, along the underside, and swirling teasingly around the head. Blaine's cries as he gently dug his hands into Kurt's hair only intensified Kurt's arousal and once again he had to stop stroking himself or risk ending this all too quickly.

Once Blaine had finally trusted him enough to let him, Kurt had discovered he absolutely craved sucking Blaine's cock. The power over Blaine's pleasure was heady, and he insisted on it almost every time they fooled around.

But sucking Blaine off wasn't the endgame here. Kurt reluctantly pulled off and fumbled around behind him before he finally found the condom, tearing open the packet. He let go of himself and gripped Blaine at the base, slowly rolling it on, looking into Blaine's eyes as he did so, seeing the love and desire there reflect his own.

"Love you," Blaine managed, lethargic.

Kurt hummed as he moved to straddle Blaine, "You're just saying that to get into my pants."

"Your pants are so tight I couldn't get into them if I tried," Blaine's voice was cracking, but playful. Kurt giggled and then placed his hands on Blaine's shoulder to steady himself, looking hungrily down at Blaine's waiting erection.

He felt a bit of tension seize him, despite his arousal. The room felt a little smaller and his breathing became slightly shallow and more rapid.

Blaine sensed the slight change in his demeanour. "Kurt, are you-"

"Kiss me," Kurt ordered, and Blaine immediately complied. Within a few seconds, the tension dissipated to nothing.

This had been a trick they'd figured out with practise. A few times in the months they had been together, Kurt would seize involuntarily. At first, Kurt would break away, angry with himself for ruining the mood. His mini-panic attacks were seemingly out of nowhere and would creep up on him without warning. He hated them; hated that even though _he_ was over the incident that had caused them, his nervous system didn't seem to be. He loathed having to convince Blaine that it had nothing to do with him, because Kurt trusted Blaine with all his heart.

However, Kurt had discovered that if he stayed in the moment, kissing his boyfriend and ignoring the fear, it couldn't cripple him and eventually he'd push past it. Over time, with this method, the instances became less and less, and Blaine was more than willing to oblige Kurt's solution if need be. If anything, it seemed to be a source of pride for Blaine that he could help Kurt work past his anxiety.

Through the kiss, he could feel Blaine's finger softly stroking the skin around his entrance, relaxing him even further, both physically and emotionally. When he let out a contented whine, which Blaine swallowed, he knew he was ready and pulled out of the kiss to tell Blaine as much.

Kurt shifted his weight so he was situated above Blaine's cock as Blaine gazed lustfully at him from his seated position. Kurt nodded and Blaine gripped one hand around the base of himself and placed the other steadily on Kurt's hip. Kurt also steadied himself with one hand on Blaine's shoulder and the other reaching behind him to grip the head of Blaine's length. As he guided it, Kurt slowly sat down, pausing briefly to move Blaine's tip around the outside his entrance, coating it with lubrication. Blaine moaned, and Kurt turned his head to smile at him, before scrunching his face up as he sat down, pushing the head partially into his hole.

It pulled him apart and he cried out. It was big, bigger than Blaine's fingers, and no matter how much preparation Blaine had given him, nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of being stretched so completely. He hovered there for several minutes, still as he let his body adjust, even though part of him was screaming for him to push off and get it out of him, get it out because it doesn't belong.

But Blaine started whispering sweet nothings at him, "Feels so good, Kurt, oh, I love you, this is amazing, god, just relax, please, so tight, so hot, I love you," stroking Kurt's side and then stroking his cock, and Kurt felt his muscles relax again. Eventually, the discomfort passed and he only felt unbelievably full. He slowly, gently slid down until Blaine was buried in him completely, sighing as he bottomed out. He fell forward a bit, chest flush against Blaine's, head resting on his shoulder.

"How are you feeling?" Blaine asked shakily, stroking his hair.

"Full," Kurt managed to say. He understood now why Blaine had been so inarticulate when it had been his turn. He was so overcome with sensation, words were a problem. "You?"

"Tight, god, Kurt, it's so tight, and warm, and I'm so sorry if you're in pain but I feel _so good_ right now, you need to tell me if you need to stop because if we keep going I don't know if I can," Blaine rambled, trying desperately to balance honesty and arousal with his inherent desire to be a gentleman.

"No," Kurt said into Blaine's shoulder, finally relaxed and ready to keep going. "I want this. Doesn't hurt anymore. I just feel full now. I think I can," and he sat up, straightening his back, flinching slightly as Blaine's cock shifted inside him, "I think I can move."

With that, he pushed off slightly with his knees so that Blaine's cock came out about half-way, and then he slowly slid back down, smiling as Blaine's head fell back against the pillow. He did it again, and again, until he got a good rhythm going and eventually it started to feel natural. Good. Not amazing; he clearly wasn't enjoying it nearly as much as Blaine seemed to be, but seeing Blaine shut his eyes, mouth open in an 'o' as he panted and whispered Kurt's name, it filled Kurt with a sense of deep pride and he bounced on Blaine's lap happily.

After a while, his calves told him he needed to adjust his position and he shifted his pelvis. However, the pleasure that shot through him caused him to collapse forward onto Blaine beneath him. "Kurt?" Blaine asked worriedly.

"_Oh my god!_" Kurt moaned, panting. He'd hit his prostate. Blaine's cock had hit his prostate, and that with the combination of the fullness inside was enough to make him see fireworks. "That was so intense, holy shit!" He _needed_ more.

Kurt leaned far back, bending his legs so they folded completely at the knees and he hooked both hands around Blaine's shoulders, using them as an anchor. Slowly he started building a rhythm and Blaine groaned loudly, his hands gripping Kurt's hips so tightly he was certain they would leave a bruise.

Kurt wasn't moving up and down anymore, no longer fucking himself _onto_ Blaine's cock. Instead, he'd begun gyrating his hips, twisting them around in a circular motion, with Blaine's cock buried half-way up his ass. He was practically dancing on Blaine. Every rotation brought him a jolt of pleasure, and he cried, speeding up his movements, greedily seeking the wave of electricity that was building inside of him. He'd never experienced anything like this before and he was desperate to see where it would take him.

Blaine, meanwhile, was struggling beneath him, his body jerking randomly "_Fuck_, Kurt, I can't." He was failing to keep himself upright, even with the headboard to support him. He started to lean over sideways, and Kurt stopped his rotations momentarily to help shift them both backwards so Blaine's head was lying flat against the mattress.

Kurt started again, reaching his pace much quicker than before and loving every second of it. When Blaine moved his hands back to Kurt's hips, Kurt braced his own hand on Blaine's chest as his other reached down to start stroking his cock again. Kurt didn't think there was such a thing as too much pleasure and he sure as hell wasn't going to deny himself any.

"Kurt-" Blaine repeated over and over, his eyes squinting and his head thrashing. He started thrusting slightly into Kurt, but his position and Kurt's gyrations didn't allow for him to go far or do much.

Kurt was overcome with such possessiveness that he ripped Blaine's hands off his hips and pinned them behind his head. He interweaved his fingers with Blaine's and pressed both hands down hard into the mattress. His chest came down flush against Blaine's and he started kissing him fiercely, all while moaning uncontrollably as he ground his ass with Blaine inside him.

Kurt declared between kisses. "I feel so good, so good, I don't want to stop, I never knew I could feel like this, god, Blaine-"

"Kurt, so good," Blaine echoed as he writhed beneath Kurt's gyration. "Kurt, but-"

Kurt almost didn't hear him through his excitement, still chasing each bolt of ecstasy. "But what?" he managed eventually.

"Kurt, I need-" Blaine panted, but he didn't continue.

Kurt kept going, whispering breathlessly, "Do you need to come soon?"

Blaine shook his head.

Kurt slowed at that, but not stopping completely. "No?"

"It's okay," Blaine shook his head, "Keep going."

"Am I hurting you?" Kurt was worried. He didn't even think that was possible when Blaine was the one inside him, but he was concerned all the same.

"No, it's just-" Blaine's head turned away again, and Kurt stopped completely. "No, keep going, it felt so good."

"What's wrong, Blaine? What do you need?" Kurt was certainly not getting off if Blaine wasn't even close.

"I need-, god, Kurt, I can't-," Blaine tried rotating his hips like Kurt had been, but in the position they were in it was a futile experiment.

"Blaine, I want to give you what you need, please tell me," Kurt said sternly.

Maybe this wasn't enjoyable at all for Blaine. Maybe Blaine was a 'total bottom.' Maybe he didn't like giving, only receiving, and Kurt's motions were making him uncomfortable. Or worse, hurting him.

After a minute of Blaine sighing, however, he turned to gaze at Kurt in the eyes, like he was trying to apologize.

"That felt so good, like, amazing, but," Blaine said, sounding disappointed, "I need you to just take it. I need to be on top as I fuck you."

He sighed and looked away, embarrassed.

_But_, Kurt thought, stunned, _that wasn't part of the plan._

"I know, forget it," Blaine tried to brush it off and Kurt realized he'd said that aloud.

"But-"

"It's fine, keep going," Blaine removed his hands from Kurt's loosening grasp and moved them to Kurt's hips. He tried to move Kurt's waist, trying to mimic Kurt's earlier movements but Kurt clamped his legs down and stiffened his torso. Blaine tried moving him harder but it was no use and he gave up, exasperated. "Kurt, please? I need some movement or I'm going to die."

But Kurt was too busy considering the situation. When they'd decided that they were going to do this, Kurt had insisted that he try both topping and bottoming. Blaine had understandably objected because of Kurt's anxieties, but they had finally agreed that if Kurt was satisfyingly worked up before, in control and on top during, the chances of him panicking were significantly reduced. They'd structured the entire plan around it.

What Blaine wanted was flying in the face of all of it.

Blaine knew that. He knew that it was everything they'd decided not to do. Kurt glanced down at his boyfriend's frustrated expression, and he realized that Blaine was astutely aware that what he was asking for was most definitely not the plan. And that it risked upsetting Kurt, the absolute last thing Blaine ever wanted to do. So if he was asking, saying that he needed it, Blaine _really _must need it. And Blaine was hating himself for it. Kurt's heart broke.

Kurt bent over Blaine and ran his fingers softly along Blaine's cheek, and Blaine turned to look at him slowly. All of this had been designed to keep Kurt from being afraid. But the only thing Kurt was afraid of in that moment was refusing Blaine's needs when Blaine had been so willing to accommodate every one of his. He owed it to him.

Besides, thinking back to how Blaine had brokenly confessed _'I want you to just take it,'_ Kurt shivered as he realized just how much he wanted it too.

"Kiss me," Kurt said softly.

Blaine looked at him questioningly, as if not quite believing what he was hearing.

Kurt closed his eyes and nodded. "Kiss me," he repeated.

Blaine pushed his upper body off the bed and leaned back on his elbows, looking at Kurt both warily and hopeful. "Are you sure?"

Kurt responded by bending over and pulling Blaine in for a sharp kiss. Blaine melted into it and Kurt started moving his hips up and down, as he had when they'd started. Blaine groaned into his mouth and curled an arm around his back, flipping them both while he was still sheathed inside Kurt.

Kurt fell softly against the mattress, the weight of everything pressing in on him slightly, but he wrapped his legs around Blaine so his hips and the place where they were joined was hovering in the air. He refused to break contact from Blaine's lips until Blaine himself pulled away, one hand braced against the mattress and the other gripping Kurt's waist, holding it up. Kurt hadn't been in this position in a long time, not since…

And then Kurt had a wicked idea. One to make Blaine's first time on top memorable. _Besides, it will be sweet retribution for earlier._

"I want you to touch yourself, okay?" Blaine requested, his voice rough. "I want this to be good for you too."

Kurt looked up at him from the bed and nodded, reaching his hand down between them and gripping himself firmly, stroking himself so he was fully hard again. His head was jerking slightly against the mattress and he squinted his eyes, biting his lip and suppressing his moans. After a minute, he signalled with his eyes to Blaine to start his rhythm again.

Blaine complied, eying Kurt warily as he slowly, gently pulled out and pushed in. He let out a long, throaty moan. Kurt sympathized; this was technically Blaine's first thrust and just over an hour ago Kurt had had felt the same glorious sensation. Blaine repeated the motion, a bit faster, and Kurt felt the warmth at the base of his spine start to return. He shifted slightly so that the third time Blaine thrust in, his cock grazed Kurt's prostate. Kurt's hips jerked and his stroking increased. His free hand clutched the comforter and he threw his head back, biting his lip as hard as he ever had.

"Kurt, are you okay?"

Kurt was unable to answer, it was all too overwhelming, but he nodded with a grin to let Blaine know that he was most definitely okay.

"Why aren't you…" Blaine trailed off, and Kurt finally managed to stare back at Blaine, silent and grinning smugly. After a moment, Blaine's eyes shot open and his face turned to pure lust. "_Kurt!"_ he moaned.

Kurt let go of the comforter and gripped Blaine's hip, pushing and pulling him slightly, wordlessly demanding Blaine start thrusting again. This was a challenge now and if Blaine was going to succeed he damn well better pick up the pace.

"_Holy fuck,_" Blaine groaned, his head falling back and eyes shutting as he complied. His thrusts started slow but he quickly worked his way up to an impressive pace. In no time at all, he was pounding Kurt's whole body into the mattress, trying desperately to lean over and keep kissing Kurt and only managing to maintain it about half the time. Blaine moaned and panted and swore, all the while thrusting into Kurt like it was going out of style.

Meanwhile, beneath him, Kurt was arching his back, taking everything Blaine gave him and loving every second of it. When Blaine would look at him, hungry to hear him make a sound, it would twist inside him and he'd want to call out, but he struggled to fight the urge down. Blaine needed to _earn_ it. Instead, he harnessed the desire, kinking an eyebrow, daring Blaine to make him break, make him cry out, make him scream. Blaine, always eager to rise to the occasion, had stopped his thrusts a few times, corkscrewing his hips, simulating Kurt's earlier gyrations and _almost_ cracking him. More than once. But Kurt Hummel was a stubborn brat and he was most certainly _not_ going to lose this; not when him holding out meant they would both win in the end.

He steadily felt his orgasm start to build, sourced at the base of his spine and spread throughout his whole body. He stroked himself quickly throughout, pushing him close to the edge. Kurt couldn't handle the two completely different but amazingly wonderful sensations of bringing himself off and getting fucked by Blaine; getting filled and stretched and shocked with pleasure at each thrust of Blaine's cock. And with Blaine's moans and desire and gratitude tumbling forth from his swollen lips as he drove into him, it was all too much.

Almost enough to make Kurt grunt or groan or swear or pant, but he clamped his vocal chords down as he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood because he wasn't going to make a sound _until, until, until.._

"Oh, god! BLAINE!" he screamed and came, seeing stars behind his eyes squeezed shut and clenching the muscles in his ass. White hot liquid coursed through him and spurted onto his stomach as he stroked himself through.

"Kurt, Jesus _fuck_, you just-, I'm gonna-," and Blaine hammered home, his pace a breakneck speed until he stilled almost completely. He threw his head back, shut his eyes, thrusting once, twice, and Kurt's name echoed throughout his bedroom as he came with a shout. A minute buried deep inside, back arched, knuckles white at Kurt's hips, a look of pure ecstasy on his face, and then Blaine collapsed on Kurt, panting heavily and clutching Kurt close, sighing.

"Thank you," Blaine mumbled earnestly. After a moment of clinging to Kurt, he dismounted.

"No, thank you," Kurt's tone was lazy but playful. His muscles were all competing for his attention; his ass adjusting to the freedom, and he felt the need to stretch everything. His whole body was aching but it was a delightful ache. He'd never come that way before, not from two competing but complimentary stimulations, and he was still coming down from his high, trying to absorb everything he'd just experienced.

Blaine returned from disposing of the condom, bearing tissues, and they both cleaned themselves up. Kurt turned on his stomach and propped his head up with his hand, resting the other on Blaine's chest, who was lying on his back, smiling back at Kurt.

"I can't believe you did that," Blaine said with awe.

"I can't believe I didn't think of it until now," Kurt countered as he breathed out. "It should have been part of the plan."

But Blaine shook his head, "No, I love that we went off course. It was an amazingly _hot_ surprise. Oh, god, Kurt," he said, his eyes lidded, "you came with me inside you, screaming my name, and I just-" he groaned, "that was _incredible_."

"Why didn't you tell me that's what you wanted?" Kurt asked, concerned.

Blaine furrowed his brow, "I did tell you, months ago-"

"No, not that," Kurt circled his fingers on Blaine's chest. "That when you topped, you wanted to, uh, be on top?"

Blaine started to look sad again, "I didn't really know until we were doing it. I'm sorry."

But Kurt wasn't going to let him go there, "Blaine, no. It's not a problem. I liked it, okay? A lot, obviously." He smirked. "I'm just worried that you didn't tell me that what I was doing wasn't doing it for you."

Blaine panicked, "No, Kurt. No, what you were doing felt _really_ good. I can't stress that enough, it felt fantastic. And that you were getting off on it was so _so_ amazing to watch. Which is why I felt so bad, because everything you were doing made me want to thrust into you. Hard." He blushed at the words, "Is that terrible?"

But Kurt understood; their roles had been reversed not two hours ago. "No Blaine, it's not terrible. It was actually pretty spectacular." He grinned, gripping Blaine's hand and bringing it to his lips. "I get it, though. You were afraid of freaking me out."

Blaine nodded, "I'm sorry."

"Don't ever be sorry for asking what you want, okay? Blaine, you do _everything_ for me. You're the perfect boyfriend. The least I can do is _something_ for you."

"But what if I hurt you?" Blaine's eyes shot open, "Oh, shit, Kurt! What if you were in pain and you didn't say anything? _Did_ I hurt you? You need to tell me!"

But Kurt rubbed his chest and soothed him, shushing him until Blaine calmed down, "It didn't hurt at all; well, it did at the beginning, but not when you were on top of me. God, when you were on top of me it felt phenomenal. And besides, we worked this out before, remember?" And he pinched Blaine's nipple hard, stealing a hilarious yelp in the process. "I had it covered," he said smugly.

"Always in control," Blaine smiled.

Kurt agreed, "Even when I'm on the bottom, you're my bitch," and they both laughed.

Blaine turned on his side, also propping his head on his hand. "So which did you like better? Bottom or top?"

Kurt paused, looking away to think about it. Eventually he answered. "I don't know yet. My first instinct is to say top, but they both had their benefits. Bottoming didn't run as smoothly this time, but I think that if we went into it knowing exactly what each of us wanted, I would definitely be up for it again. I think you were right; I'm probably a 'top-leaning versatile,' to use the correct lingo. You?"

"Definitely versatile," Blaine agreed. "They were both so different and I can't decide what I loved more, but I definitely loved them both."

"This will certainly make our sex life interesting," Kurt teased. "Especially since we're probably never going to get this much alone time again."

"Well we don't have to go both ways every time," Blaine stuck his tongue out. "Whatever we're up for in the moment, we'll do. Which is totally awesome, by the way. It's kinda freeing, you know?"

"Mmm, absolutely," Kurt sighed, content. "All spontaneous, no planning,"

"The plan was a great guideline, but I agree," Blaine shifted on the bed, "no more plans. Unless you feel you need them."

"Just communicate with me. Tell me what _you_ need next time and we'll play it by ear," Kurt offered.

Blaine twisted on his back. "Right now, I need a nap. I'm _so_ tired."

Kurt cuddled up beside him, resting on Blaine's side, arm spread over his torso. "Me too. Sex takes a lot out of you, huh?"

"Especially when you have lots of it," Blaine yawned.

"Okay, but we can't fall _asleep_ asleep." Kurt drummed his fingers on Blaine's chest, "We can't be here when everyone else gets home. Besides, I should probably make an appearance in glee club today. Finn's really depressed about Nationals and I should go be a good step-brother and support him."

"Deal," Blaine murmured. "Until then, though…"

Blaine closed his eyes, covering his face with his arm and clearing his throat.

Then, much to Kurt's horror, Blaine started to sing. "_Hello darkness, my old friend. I've come to talk with you again-_"

"BLAINE!" Kurt reprimanded, mortified.

"_Because a vision softly creeping, left its seeds while I was sleeping-_"

"I am _never _having sex with you again, oh my god!"

"_And the vision, that was planted in my brain, still remains-"_

"That's it! I've had my way with you and now we're breaking up. We're through!"

"_Within the sound of silence."_

* * *

><p><em>~End~<br>_


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